LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIE«O 


\*>  of 

ff\ 


THE   AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 


COLONEL    SELLERS    INTRODUCES    SALLY    TO 
LORD     BERKELEY 


THE  AMERICAN  CLAIMANT 

AND 

OTHER  STORIES  AND  SKETCHES 


BY 

MARK  TWAIN 

ILLUSTRATED 


HARPER    &    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

NEW    YORK    AND     LONDON 


BOOKS  BY 
MARK    TWAIN 

ST.  JOAN  OF  ARC 

THE  INNOCENTS  ABROAD' 

ROUGHING  IT 

THE  GILDED  AGE 

A  TRAMP  ABROAD 

FOLLOWING  THE  EQUATOR^ 

PUDD'NHEAD  WILSON 

SKETCHES  NEW  AND  OLD 

THE  AMERICAN  CLAIMANT 

CHRISTIAN  SCIENCE 

A  CONNECTICUT  YANKEE  AT  THE  COURT  OP 

KING  ARTHUR 

THE   ADVENTURES  OF  HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 
PERSONAL  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  JOAN  OF  ARC 
LIFE  ON  THE  MISSISSIPPI 
THE  MAN  THAT  CORRUPTED  HADLEYBURQ 
THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  PAUPER 
THE  $30,000  BEQUEST 
THE  ADVENTURES  OF  TOM  SAWYER 
TOM  SAWYER  ABROAD 
WHAT  IS  MAN? 
THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER 

ADAM'S  DIARY 

A  DOG'S  TALE 

A  DOUBLE-BARRELED  DETECTIVE  STORY 

EDITORIAL  WILD  OATS 

EVE'S  DIARY 

IN    DEFENSE    OF    HARRIET    SHELLEY    AND 

OTHER   ESSAYS 
IS  SHAKESPEARE  DEAD? 
CAPT.  STORMFIELD'S  VISIT  TO  HEAVEN 
A  HORSE'S  TALE 
THE  JUMPING  FROG 
THE  £1,000,000  BANK-NOTE 
TRAVELS  AT  HOME 
TRAVELS  IN  HISTORY 

MARK  TWAIN'S  LETTERS 
MARK  TWAIN'S  SPEECHES 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS.  NEW  YORK 
[ESTABLISHED  1817] 

THE  AMERICAN  CLAIMANT 

Copyright,  1892,  by  SAMUEL  L.  CLEMENS 

Copyright,  1892,  by  CHARLES  L.  WEBSTER  &  Co. 

Copyright,  1893,  by  SAMUEL  L.  CLEMENS 

Copyright,  1806  and  1899,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS 

Copyright,  1917,  by  MARK  TWAIN  COMPANY 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 

M-T 


CONTENTS 

PACK 

THE  AMERICAN  CLAIMANT i 

MERRY  TALES 

THE  PRIVATE  HISTORY  OF  A  CAMPAIGN  THAT  FAILED      .    .  255 

LUCK 283 

A  CURIOUS  EXPERIENCE 290 

MRS.  McWlLLIAMS  AND  THE  LIGHTNING 33O 

MEISTERSCHAFT:   IN  THREE  ACTS 341 

PLAYING  COURIER 376 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

SALLY  INTRODUCED  TO  LORD  BERKELEY Frontispiece 

"AND  I  AS  USURPER — A  NAMELESS  PAUPER,  A  TRAMP "    Facing  p.    4 
FINALLY   THERE   WAS    A    QUIET    WEDDING   AT  THE 

TOWERS 246 

"WHAT  Is  THE  MATTER  HERE?" "       338 


EXPLANATORY 

THE  Colonel  Mulberry  Sellers  here  reintroduced 
to  the  public  is  the  same  person  who  appeared  as 
Eschol  Sellers  in  the  first  edition  of  the  tale  entitled 
The  Gilded  Age,  years  ago,  and  as  Beriah  Sellers  in 
the  subsequent  editions  of  the  same  book,  and  final- 
ly as  Mulberry  Sellers  in  the  drama  played  afterward 
by  John  T.  Raymond. 

The  name  was  changed  from  Eschol  to  Beriah  to 
accommodate  an  Eschol  Sellers  who  rose  up  out  of 
the  vasty  deeps  of  uncharted  space  and  preferred 
his  request — backed  by  threat  of  a  libel  suit — then 
went  his  way  appeased,  and  came  no  more.  In  the 
play  Beriah  had  to  be  dropped  to  satisfy  another 
member  of  the  race,  and  Mulberry  was  substituted 
in  the  hope  that  the  objectors  would  be  tired  by 
that  time  and  let  it  pass  unchallenged.  So  far  it 
has  occupied  the  field  in  peace ;  therefore  we  chance 
it  again,  feeling  reasonably  safe,  this  time,  under 
shelter  of  the  statute  of  limitations. 

MARK  TWAIN. 

HARTFORD,  1891. 


THE    WEATHER    IN    THIS    BOOK 

No  weather  will  be  found  in  this  book.  This  is  an 
attempt  to  pull  a  book  through  without  weather.  It 
being  the  first  attempt  of  the  kind  in  fictitious  litera- 
ture, it  may  prove  a  failure,  but  it  seemed  worth  the 
while  of  some  dare-devil  person  to  try  it,  and  the 
author  was  in  just  the  mood. 

Many  a  reader  who  wanted  to  read  a  tale  through 
was  not  able  to  do  it  because  of  delays  on  account  of 
the  weather.  Nothing  breaks  up  an  author's  progress 
like  having  to  stop  every  few  pages  to  fuss-up  the 
weather.  Thus  it  is  plain  that  persistent  intrusions 
of  weather  are  bad  for  both  reader  and  author. 

Of  course  weather  is  necessary  to  a  narrative  of 
human  experience.  That  is  conceded.  But  it  ought 
to  be  put  where  it  will  not  be  in  the  way;  where  it  will 
not  interrupt  the  flow  of  the  narrative.  And  it  ought 
to  be  the  ablest  weather  that  can  be  had,  not  igno- 
rant, poor-quality,  amateur  weather.  Weather  is  a 
literary  specialty,  and  no  untrained  hand  can  turn 
out  a  good  article  of  it.  The  present  author  can  do 
only  a  few  trifling  ordinary  kinds  of  weather,  and 
he  cannot  do  those  very  good.  So  it  has  seemed 
wisest  to  borrow  such  weather  as  is  necessary  for 
the  book  from  qualified  and  recognized  experts — 
giving  credit,  of  course.  This  weather  will  be  found 
over  in  the  back  part  of  the  book,  out  of  the  way. 
See  Appendix.  The  reader  is  requested  to  turn 
over  and  help  himself  from  time  to  time  as  he  goes 
along. 


THE 

AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

CHAPTER  I 

IT  is  a  matchless  morning  in  rural  England.  On  a 
fair  hill  we  see  a  majestic  pile,  the  ivied  walls  and 
towers  of  Cholmondeley  Castle,  huge  relic  and  wit- 
ness of  the  baronial  grandeurs  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
This  is  one  of  the  seats  of  the  Earl  of  Rossmore, 
KG.,  G.C.B.,  K.C.M.G.,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  etc., 
who  possesses  twenty-two  thousand  acres  of  English 
land,  owns  a  parish  in  London  with  two  thousand 
houses  on  its  lease-roll,  and  struggles  comfortably 
along  on  an  income  of  two  hundred  thousand  pounds 
a  year.  The  father  and  founder  of  this  proud  old 
line  was  William  the  Conqueror  his  very  self;  the 
mother  of  it  was  not  inventoried  in  history  by  name, 
she  being  merely  a  random  episode  and  inconsequen- 
tial, like  the  tanner's  daughter  of  Falaise. 

In  a  breakfast-room  of  the  castle  on  this  breezy 
fine  morning  there  are  two  persons  and  the  cooling 
remains  of  a  deserted  meal.  One  of  these  persons  is 
the  old  lord,  tall,  erect,  square-shouldered,  white- 
haired,  stern-browed,  a  man  who  shows  character 


MARK    TWAIN 

in  every  feature,  attitude,  and  movement,  and  carries 
his  seventy  years  as  easily  as  most  men  carry  fifty. 
The  other  person  is  his  only  son  and  heir,  a  dreamy- 
eyed  young  fellow,  who  looks  about  twenty-six  but 
is  nearer  thirty.  Candor,  kindliness,  honesty,  sin- 
cerity, simplicity,  modesty — it  is  easy  to  see  that 
these  are  cardinal  traits  of  his  character;  and  so 
when  you  have  clothed  him  in  the  formidable  com- 
ponents of  his  name,  you  somehow  seem  to  be  con- 
templating a  lamb  in  armor;  his  name  and  style 
being  the  Honorable  Kirkcudbright  Llanover  Mar- 
joribanks  Sellers  Viscount  Berkeley  of  Cholmondeley 
Castle,  Warwickshire.  (Pronounced  K'koobry  Thla- 
nover  Marshbanks  Sellers  Vycount  Barkly  of  Chum- 
ly  Castle,  Warrikshr.)  He  is  standing  by  a  great 
window,  in  an  attitude  suggestive  of  respectful  atten- 
tion to  what  his  father  is  saying  and  equally  respect- 
ful dissent  from  the  positions  and  arguments  offered. 
The  father  walks  the  floor  as  he  talks,  and  his  talk 
shows  that  his  temper  is  away  up  toward  summer 
heat. 

"Soft-spirited  as  you  are,  Berkeley,  I  am  quite 
aware  that  when  you  have  once  made  up  your  mind 
to  do  a  thing  which  your  ideas  of  honor  and  justice 
require  you  to  do,  argument  and  reason  are  (for  the 
time  being)  wasted  upon  you — yes,  and  ridicule, 
persuasion,  supplication,  and  command  as  well.  To 
my  mind — " 

"Father,  if  you  will  look  at  it  without  prejudice, 
without  passion,  you  must  concede  that  I  am  not 
doing  a  rash  thing,  a  thoughtless,  wilful  thing,  with 
nothing  substantial  behind  it  to  justify  it.  7  did  not 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

create  the  American  claimant  to  the  earldom  of 
Rossmore;  I  did  not  hunt  for  him,  did  not  find  him, 
did  not  obtrude  him  upon  your  notice.  He  found 
himself,  he  injected  himself  into  our  lives — " 

"And  has  made  mine  a  purgatory  for  ten  years 
with  his  tiresome  letters,  his  wordy  reasonings,  his 
acres  of  tedious  evidence — " 

"Which  you  would  never  read,  would  never  con- 
sent to  read.  Yet  in  common  fairness  he  was  entitled 
to  a  hearing.  That  hearing  would  either  prove  he 
was  the  rightful  earl — in  which  case  our  course  would 
be  plain — or  it  would  prove  that  he  wasn't — in  which 
case  our  course  would  be  equally  plain.  I  have  read 
his  evidences,  my  lord.  I  have  conned  them  well, 
studied  them  patiently  and  thoroughly.  The  chain 
seems  to  be  complete,  no  important  link  wanting. 
I  believe  he  is  the  rightful  earl." 

"And  I  a  usurper — a  nameless  pauper,  a  tramp! 
Consider  what  you  are  saying,  sir." 

"Father,  if  he  is  the  rightful  earl,  would  you,  could 
you — that  fact  being  established — consent  to  keep 
his  titles  and  his  properties  from  him  a  day,  an  hour, 
a  minute?" 

"You  are  talking  nonsense  —  nonsense  —  lurid 
idiocy!  Now  listen  to  me.  I  will  make  a  confession 
— if  you  wish  to  call  it  by  that  name.  I  did  not  read 
those  evidences  because  I  had  no  occasion  to — I  was 
made  familiar  with  them  in  the  time  of  this  claimant's 
father  and  of  my  own  father  forty  years  ago.  This 
fellow's  predecessors  have  kept  mine  more  or  less 
familiar  with  them  for  close  upon  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years.  The  truth  is,  the  rightful  heir  did  go  to 

3 


MARK     TWAIN 

America,  with  the  Fairfax  heir  or  about  the  same 
time — but  disappeared  somewhere  in  the  wilds  of 
Virginia,  got  married,  and  began  to  breed  savages  for 
the  Claimant  market;  wrote  no  letters  home;  was 
supposed  to  be  dead;  his  younger  brother  softly  took 
possession;  presently  the  American  did  die,  and 
straightway  his  eldest  product  put  in  his  claim — by 
letter — letter  still  in  existence — and  died  before  the 
uncle  in  possession  found  time — or  maybe  inclination 
— to  answer.  The  infant  son  of  that  eldest  product 
grew  up — long  interval,  you  see — and  he  took  to 
writing  letters  and  furnishing  evidences.  Well,  suc- 
cessor after  successor  has  done  the  same,  down  to  the 
present  idiot.  It  was  a  succession  of  paupers;  not 
one  of  them  was  ever  able  to  pay  his  passage  to  Eng- 
land or  institute  suit.  The  Fairfaxes  kept  their  lord- 
ship alive,  and  so  they  have  never  lost  it  to  this  day, 
although  they  live  in  Maryland;  their  friend  lost  his 
by  his  own  neglect.  You  perceive  now  that  the  facts 
in  this  case  bring  us  to  precisely  this  result :  morally 
the  American  tramp  is  rightful  earl  of  Rossmore; 
legally  he  has  no  more  right  than  his  dog.  There 
now — are  you  satisfied?" 

There  was  a  pause;  then  the  son  glanced  at  the 
crest  carved  in  the  great  oaken  mantel,  and  said,  with 
a  regretful  note  in  his  voice: 

"Since  the  introduction  of  heraldic  symbols,  the 
motto  of  this  house  has  been  Suum  cuique — to  every 
man  his  own.  By  your  own  intrepidly  frank  con- 
fession, my  lord,  it  is  become  a  sarcasm.  If  Simon 
Lathers—" 

"Keep  that  exasperating  name  to  yourself!  For 

4 


'AND  i  AS  USURPER — A  NAMELESS  PAUPER,  A  TRAMP 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

ten  years  it  has  pestered  my  eye  and  tortured  my 
ear;  till  at  last  my  very  footfalls  time  themselves  to 
the  brain-racking  rhythm  of  Simon  Lathers! — Simon 
Lathers! — Simon  Lathers!  And  now,  to  make  its 
presence  in  my  soul  eternal,  immortal,  imperishable, 
you  have  resolved  to — to — what  is  it  you  have  re- 
solved to  do?" 

"To  go  to  Simon  Lathers  in  America  and  change 
places  with  him." 

"What ?  Deliver  the  reversion  of  the  earldom  into 
his  hands?" 

"That  is  my  purpose." 

"Make  this  tremendous  surrender  without  even 
trying  the  fantastic  case  in  the  Lords?" 

"Ye-s — "  with  hesitation  and  some  embarrass- 
ment. 

"By  all  that  is  amazing,  I  believe  you  are  insane, 
my  son.  See  here — have  you  been  training  with  that 
ass  again — that  radical,  if  you  prefer  the  term, 
though  the  words  are  synonymous — Lord  Tanzy  of 
ToUmache?" 

The  son  did  not  reply,  and  the  old  lord  continued : 

"Yes,  you  confess.  That  puppy,  that  shame  to 
his  birth  and  caste,  who  holds  all  hereditary  lordships 
and  privilege  to  be  usurpation,  all  nobility  a  tinsel 
sham,  all  aristocratic  institutions  a  fraud,  all  ine- 
qualities in  rank  a  legalized  crime  and  an  infamy,  and 
no  bread  honest  bread  that  a  man  doesn't  earn  by 
his  own  work — work,  pah!" — and  the  old  patrician 
brushed  imaginary  labor-dirt  from  his  white  hands. 
"You  have  come  to  hold  just  those  opinions  yourself, 
I  suppose,"  he  added,  with  a  sneer. 

5 


MARK    TWAIN 

A  faint  flush  in  the  young  man's  cheek  told  that  the 
shot  had  hit  and  hurt,  but  he  answered  with  dignity  : 

"I  have.  I  say  it  without  shame — I  feel  none. 
And  now  my  reason  for  resolving  to  renounce  my 
heirship  without  resistance  is  explained.  I  wish  to 
retire  from  what  to  me  is  a  false  existence,  a  false 
position,  and  begin  my  life  over  again — begin  it  right 
— begin  it  on  the  level  of  mere  manhood,  unassisted 
by  factitious  aids,  and  succeed  or  fail  by  pure  merit 
or  the  want  of  it.  I  will  go  to  America,  where  all 
men  are  equal  and  all  have  an  equal  chance;  I  will 
live  or  die,  sink  or  swim,  win  or  lose  as  just  a  man — 
that  alone,  and  not  a  single  helping  gaud  or  fiction 
back  of  it." 

"Hear,  hear!"  The  two  men  looked  each  other 
steadily  in  the  eye  a  moment  or  two;  then  the  elder 
one  added,  musingly,  "Ab-so-lutely  cra-zy — ab-so- 
lutely!"  After  another  silence,  he  said,  as  one  who, 
long  troubled  by  clouds,  detects  a  ray  of  sunshine, 
"Well,  there  will  be  one  satisfaction — Simon  Lathers 
will  come  here  to  enter  into  his  own,  and  I  will  drown 
him  in  the  horse-pond.  The  poor  devil — always  so 
humble  in  his  letters,  so  pitiful,  so  deferential;  so 
steeped  in  reverence  for  our  great  line  and  lofty 
station;  so  anxious  to  placate  us,  so  prayerful  for 
recognition  as  a  relative,  a  bearer  in  his  veins  of  our 
sacred  blood — and  withal  so  poor,  so  needy,  so 
threadbare  and  pauper-shod  as  to  raiment,  so  de- 
spised, so  laughed  at  for  his  silly  claimantship  by  the 
lewd  American  scum  around  him — ach,  the  vulgar, 
crawling,  insufferable  tramp!  To  read  one  of  his 
cringing,  nauseating  letters —  Well?" 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

This  to  a  splendid  flunky,  all  in  inflamed  plush  and 
buttons  and  knee-breeches  as  to  his  trunk,  and  a 
glinting  white  frost-work  of  ground-glass  paste  as  to 
his  head,  who  stood  with  his  heels  together  and  the 
upper  half  of  him  bent  forward,  a  salver  in  his  hands. 

"The  letters,  my  lord." 

My  lord  took  them,  and  the  servant  disappeared. 

"Among  the  rest,  an  American  letter.  From  the 
tramp,  of  course.  Jove,  but  here's  a  change!  No 
brown-paper  envelope  this  time,  filched  from  a  shop 
and  carrying  the  shop's  advertisement  in  the  corner. 
Oh  no;  a  proper  enough  envelope — with  a  most 
ostentatiously  broad  mourning  border — for  his  cat, 
perhaps,  since  he  was  a  bachelor — and  fastened  with 
red  wax — a  batch  of  it  as  big  as  a  half-crown — and 
— and — our  crest  for  a  seal! — motto  and  all.  And 
the  ignorant,  sprawling  hand  is  gone;  he  sports  a 
secretary,  evidently — a  secretary  with  a  most  confi- 
dent swing  and  flourish  to  his  pen.  Oh,  indeed,  our 
fortunes  are  improving  over  there — our  meek  tramp 
has  undergone  a  metamorphosis." 

"Read  it,  my  lord,  please." 

"Yes,  this  time  I  will.    For  the  sake  of  the  cat: 

14,042  SIXTEENTH  STREET, 

WASHINGTON,  May  2. 
My  Lord — 

It  is  my  painful  duty  to  announce  to  you  that  the  head  of 
our  illustrious  house  is  no  more — The  Right  Honorable,  The 
Most  Noble,  The  Most  Puissant  Simon  Lathers  Lord  Rossmore 
having  departed  this  life  ("Gone  at  last — this  is  unspeakably 
precious  news,  my  son  ")  at  his  seat  in  the  environs  of  the  hamlet 
of  Duffy's  Corners  in  the  grand  old  State  of  Arkansas— and  his 
twin  brother  with  him,  both  being  crushed  by  a  log  at  a  smoke- 

7 


MARK     TWAIN 

house  raising,  owing  to  carelessness  on  the  part  of  all  present, 
referable  to  over-confidence  and  gaiety  induced  by  overplus  of 
sour-mash — ("Extolled  be  sour-mash,  whatever  that  may  be, 
eh,  Berkeley?")  five  days  ago,  with  no  scion  of  our  ancient  race 
present  to  close  his  eyes  and  inter  him  with  the  honors  due  his 
historic  name  and  lofty  rank — in  fact,  he  is  on  the  ice  yet,  him 
and  his  brother — friends  took  up  a  collection  for  it.  But  I 
shall  take  immediate  occasion  to  have  their  noble  remains 
shipped  to  you  ("Great  heavens!")  for  interment,  with  due  cere- 
monies and  solemnities,  in  the  family  vault  or  mausoleum  of  our 
house.  Meantime  I  shall  put  up  a  pair  of  hatchments  on  my 
house-front,  and  you  will  of  course  do  the  same  at  your  several 
seats. 

I  have  also  to  remind  you  that  by  this  sad  disaster  I,  as  sole 
heir,  inherit  and  become  seized  of  all  the  titles,  honors,  lands, 
and  goods  of  our  lamented  relative,  and  must  of  necessity, 
painful  as  the  duty  is,  shortly  require  at  the  bar  of  the  Lords 
restitution  of  these  dignities  and  properties  now  illegally  enjoyed 
by  your  titular  lordship. 

With  assurance  of  my  distinguished  consideration  and  warm 
cousinly  regard,  I  remain 

Your  titular  lordship's 

Most  obedient  servant, 

Mulberry  Sellers  Earl  Rossmore. 

"Im-mense!  Come,  this  one's  interesting.  Why, 
Berkeley,  his  breezy  impudence  is — is — why,  it's 
colossal,  it's  sublime." 

"No,  this  one  doesn't  seem  to  cringe  much." 
"Cringe — why,  he  doesn't  know  the  meaning  of 
the  word.  Hatchments!  To  commemorate  that 
sniveling  tramp  and  his  fraternal  duplicate.  And  he 
is  going  to  send  me  the  remains.  The  late  Claimant 
was  a  fool,  but  plainly  this  new  one's  a  maniac. 
What  a  name!  Mulberry  Sellers — there's  music  for 
you.  Simon  Lathers — Mulberry  Sellers — Mulberry 
Sellers — Simon  Lathers.  Sounds  like  machinery 

8 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

working  and  churning.  Simon  Lathers,  Mulberry 
Sel —  Are  you  going?" 

"If  I  have  your  leave,  father." 

The  old  gentleman  stood  musing  some  time  after 
his  son  was  gone.  This  was  his  thought : 

"He  is  a  good  boy,  and  lovable.  Let  him  take  his 
own  course — as  it  would  profit  nothing  to  oppose  him 
— make  things  worse,  in  fact.  My  arguments  and 
his  aunt's  persuasions  have  failed;  let  us  see  what 
America  can  do  for  us.  Let  us  see  what  equality  and 
hard  times  can  effect  for  the  mental  health  of  a  brain- 
sick young  British  lord.  Going  to  renounce  his  lord- 
ship and  be  a  man!  Yas!" 


CHAPTER  II 

COLONEL  MULBERRY  SELLERS— this  was 
some  days  before  he  wrote  his  letter  to  Lord 
Rossmore — was  seated  in  his  "library,"  which  was 
also  his  "drawing-room,"  and  was  also  his  "picture- 
gallery,"  and  likewise  his  "workshop."  Sometimes 
he  called  it  by  one  of  these  names,  sometimes  by 
another,  according  to  occasion  and  circumstance.  He 
was  constructing  what  seemed  to  be  some  kind  of  a 
frail  mechanical  toy,  and  was  apparently  very  much 
interested  in  his  work.  He  was  a  white-headed  man 
now,  but  otherwise  he  was  as  young,  alert,  buoyant, 
visionary,  and  enterprising  as  ever.  His  loving  old 
wife  sat  near  by,  contentedly  knitting  and  thinking, 
with  a  cat  asleep  in  her  lap.  The  room  was  large, 
light,  and  had  a  comfortable  look,  in  fact,  a  homelike 
look,  though  the  furniture  was  of  a  humble  sort  and 
not  over-abundant,  and  the  knickknacks  and  things 
that  go  to  adorn  a  living-room  not  plenty  and  not 
costly.  But  there  were  natural  flowers,  and  there 
was  an  abstract  and  unclassifiable  something  about 
the  place  which  betrayed  the  presence  in  the  house  of 
somebody  with  a  happy  taste  and  an  effective  touch. 
Even  the  deadly  chromos  on  the  walls  were  some- 
how without  offense;  in  fact,  they  seemed  to  bslong 
there  and  to  add  an  attraction  to  the  room — a  fasci- 

IQ 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

nation,  anyway;  for  whoever  got  his  eye  on  one  of 
them  was  like  to  gaze  and  suffer  till  he  died — you 
have  seen  that  kind  of  pictures.  Some  of  these  ter- 
rors were  landscapes,  and  some  libeled  the  sea,  some 
were  ostensible  portraits,  all  were  crimes.  All  the 
portraits  were  recognizable  as  dead  Americans  of  dis- 
tinction, and  yet,  through  labeling  added  by  a  daring 
hand,  they  were  all  doing  duty  here  as  "Earls  of 
Rossmore."  The  newest  one  had  left  the  works  as 
Andrew  Jackson,  but  was  doing  its  best  now  as 
"Simon  Lathers  Lord  Rossmore,  Present  Earl."  On 
one  wall  was  a  cheap  old  railroad  map  of  Warwick- 
shire. This  had  been  newly  labeled  "The  Rossmore 
Estates."  On  the  opposite  wall  was  another  map, 
and  this  was  the  most  imposing  decoration  of  the 
establishment  and  the  first  to  catch  a  stranger's 
attention,  because  of  its  great  size.  It  had  once 
borne  simply  the  title  SIBERIA:  but  now  the  word 
"FUTURE"  had  been  written  in  front  of  that  word. 
There  were  other  additions  in  red  ink — many  cities, 
with  great  populations  set  down,  scattered  over  the 
vast  country  at  points  where  neither  cities  nor 
populations  exist  to-day.  One  of  these  cities,  with 
population  placed  at  1,500,000,  bore  the  name 
"  Liberty orloffskoizalinski,"  and  there  was  a  still 
more  populous  one,  centrally  located  and  marked 
"Capital,"  which  bore  the  name  "Freedomolov- 
naivanovich." 

The  "mansion" — the  Colonel's  usual  name  for  the 
house — was  a  rickety  old  two-story  frame  of  consid- 
erable size,  which  had  been  painted,  some  time  or 
other,  but  had  nearly  forgotten  it.  It  was  away  out 

ii 


MARK    TWAIN 

in  the  ragged  edge  of  Washington,  and  had  once  been 
somebody's  country  place.  It  had  a  neglected  yard 
around  it,  with  paling  fence  that  needed  straighten- 
ing up  in  places,  and  a  gate  that  would  stay  shut. 
By  the  door-post  were  several  modest  tin  signs. 
"Col.  Mulberry  Sellers,  Attorney  at  Law  and  Claim 
Agent,"  was  the  principal  one.  One  learned  from  the 
others  that  the  Colonel  was  a  Materializer,  a  Hypno- 
tizer,  a  Mind-Cure  dabbler,  and  so  on.  For  he  was 
a  man  who  could  always  find  things  to  do. 

A  white-headed  negro  man,  with  spectacles  and 
damaged  white-cotton  gloves,  appeared  in  the  pres- 
ence, made  a  stately  obeisance,  and  announced: 

"Marse  Washington  Hawkins,  suh." 

"Great  Scott!    Show  him  in  Dan'l,  show  him  in." 

The  Colonel  and  his  wife  were  on  their  feet  in  a 
moment,  and  the  next  moment  were  joyfully  wringing 
the  hands  of  a  stoutish,  discouraged-looking  man 
whose  general  aspect  suggested  that  he  was  fifty 
years  old,  but  whose  hair  swore  to  a  hundred. 

"Well,  well,  well,  Washington,  my  boy,  it  is  good 
to  look  at  you  again.  Sit  down,  sit  down,  and  make 
yourself  at  home.  There,  now — why,  you  look  per- 
fectly natural;  aging  a  little,  just  a  little,  but  you'd 
have  known  him  anywhere,  wouldn't  you,  Polly?" 

"Oh  yes,  Berry,  he's  just  like  his  pa  would  have 
looked  if  he'd  lived.  Dear,  dear,  where  have  you 
dropped  from?  Let  me  see,  how  long  is  it  since — " 

"I  should  say  it's  all  of  fifteen  years,  Mrs.  Sel- 
lers." 

"Well,  well,  how  time  does  get  away  with  us.  Yes, 
and  oh,  the  changes  that — " 

12 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

There  was  a  sudden  catch  of  her  voice  and  a  trem- 
bling of  the  lip,  the  men  waiting  reverently  for  her  to 
get  command  of  herself  and  go  on ;  but  after  a  little 
struggle  she  turned  away,  with  her  apron  to  her  eyes, 
and  softly  disappeared. 

"Seeing  you  made  her  think  of  the  children,  poor 
thing — dear,  dear,  they're  all  dead  but  the  youngest. 
But  banish  care,  it's  no  time  for  it  now — on  with  the 
dance,  let  joy  be  unconfined  is  my  motto,  whether 
there's  any  dance  to  dance,  or  any  joy  to  unconfine — 
you'll  be  the  healthier  for  it  every  time — every  time, 
Washington — it's  my  experience,  and  I've  seen  a 
good  deal  of  this  world.  Come — where  have  you 
disappeared  to  all  these  years,  and  are  you  from  there 
now,  or  where  are  you  from?" 

"I  don't  quite  think  you  would  ever  guess,  Colonel. 
Cherokee  Strip." 

"My  land!" 

"Sure  as  you  live." 

"You  can't  mean  it.    Actually  living  out  there?" 

"Well,  yes,  if  a  body  may  call  it  that;  though  it's 
a  pretty  strong  term  for  'dobies  and  jackass  rab- 
bits, boiled  beans  and  slapjacks,  depression,  withered 
hopes,  poverty  in  all  its  varieties — " 

"Louise  out  there?" 

"Yes,  and  the  children." 

"Out  there  now?" 

"Yes,  I  couldn't  afford  to  bring  them  with  me." 

"Oh,  I  see;  you  had  to  come — claim  against  the 
government.  Make  yourself  perfectly  easy— I'll  take 
care  of  that." 

"But  it  isn't  a  claim  against  the  government." 

13 


MARK    TWAIN 

"No?  Want  to  be  postmaster?  That's  all  right. 
Leave  it  to  me.  I'll  fix  it." 

"But  it  isn't  postmaster — you're  all  astray  yet." 

"Well,  good  gracious,  Washington,  why  don't  you 
come  out  and  tell  me  what  it  is?  What  do  you  want 
to  be  so  reserved  and  distrustful  with  an  old 
friend  like  me  for?  Don't  you  reckon  I  can  keep 
a  se — " 

"There's  no  secret  about  it — you  merely  don't  give 
me  a  chance  to — " 

"Now  look  here,  old  friend,  I  know  the  human 
race;  and  I  know  that  when  a  man  comes  to  Wash- 
ington, I  don't  care  if  it's  from  heaven,  let  alone 
Cherokee  Strip,  it's  because  he  wants  something. 
And  I  know  that  as  a  rule  he's  not  going  to  get  it; 
that  he'll  stay  and  try  for  another  thing  and  won't 
get  that;  the  same  luck  with  the  next  and  the  next 
and  the  next;  and  keeps  on  till  he  strikes  bottom, 
and  is  too  poor  and  ashamed  to  go  back,  even  to 
Cherokee  Strip;  and  at  last  his  heart  breaks  and  they 
take  up  a  collection  and  bury  him.  There — don't 
interrupt  me,  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about.  Happy 
and  prosperous  in  the  Far  West,  wasn't  I?  You 
know  that.  Principal  citizen  of  Hawkeye,  looked  up 
to  by  everybody,  kind  of  an  autocrat — actually  a 
kind  of  an  autocrat,  Washington.  We'l,  nothing 
would  do  but  I  must  go  Minister  to  St.  James,  the 
Governor  and  everybody  insisting,  you  know,  and  so 
at  last  I  consented — no  getting  out  of  it,  had  to  do  it, 
so  here  I  came.  A  day  too  late,  Washington.  Think 
of  that — what  little  things  change  the  world's  history 
— yes,  sir,  the  place  had  been  filled.  Well,  there  I 

14 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

was,  you  see.  I  offered  to  compromise  and  go  to 
Paris.  The  President  was  very  sorry  and  all  that, 
but  that  place,  you  see,  didn't  belong  to  the  West, 
so  there  I  was  again.  There  was  no  help  for  it,  so 
I  had  to  stoop  a  little — we  all  reach  the  day  some 
time  or  other  when  we've  got  to  do  that,Washington, 
and  it's  not  a  bad  thing  for  us,  either,  take  it  by  and 
large  and  all  around — I  had  to  stoop  a  little  and  offer 
to  take  Constantinople.  Washington,  consider  this — 
for  it's  perfectly  true — within  a  month  I  asked  for 
China;  within  another  month  I  begged  for  Japan ;  one 
year  later  I  was  away  down,  down,  down,  supplicat- 
ing with  tears  and  anguish  for  the  bottom  office  in  the 
gift  of  the  Government  of  the  United  States — Flint- 
Picker  in  the  cellars  of  the  War  Department.  And, 
by;George,  I  didn't  get  it!" 

"Flint-Picker?" 

"Yes.  Office  established  in  the  time  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, last  century.  The  musket-flints  for  the  military 
posts  were  supplied  from  the  capital.  They  do  it  yet ; 
for  although  the  flint-arm  has  gone  out  and  the  forts 
have  tumbled  down,  the  decree  hasn't  been  repealed 
— been  overlooked  and  forgotten,  you  see — and  so 
the  vacancies  where  old  Ticonderoga  and  others  used 
to  stand  still  get  their  six  quarts  of  gun-flints  a  year 
just  the  same." 

Washington  said,  musingly,  after  a  pause: 

"How  strange  it  seems — to  start  for  Minister  to 
England  at  twenty  thousand  a  year  and  fail  for  Flint- 
Picker  at—" 

"Three  dollars  a  week.    It's  human  life,  Washing- 
ton— just  an  epitome  of  human  ambition,  and  strug- 
2  is 


MARK    TWAIN 

gle,  and  the  outcome;  you  aim  for  the  palace  and  get 
drowned  in  the  sewer." 

There  was  another  meditative  silence.  Then 
Washington  said,  with  earnest  compassion  in  his 
voice: 

"And  so,  after  coming  here,  against  your  inclina- 
tion, to  satisfy  your  sense  of  patriotic  duty  and  ap- 
pease a  selfish  public  clamor,  you  get  absolutely  noth- 
ing for  it." 

1 ' Nothing  ?"  The  Colonel  had  to  get  up  and  stand 
to  get  room  for  his  amazement  to  expand.  "Nothing, 
Washington?  I  ask  you  this:  to  be  a  Perpetual 
Member  and  the  only  Perpetual  Member  of  a  Diplo- 
matic Body  accredited  to  the  greatest  country  on 
earth — do  you  call  that  nothing?" 

It  was  Washington's  turn  to  be  amazed.  He  was 
stricken  dumb ;  but  the  wide-eyed  wonder,  the  rever- 
ent admiration  expressed  in  his  face  were  more  elo- 
quent than  any  words  could  have  been.  The  Colonel's 
wounded  spirit  was  healed,  and  he  resumed  his  seat 
pleased  and  content.  He  leaned  forward  and  said, 
impressively: 

"What  was  due  to  a  man  who  had  become  forever 
conspicuous  by  an  experience  without  precedent  in 
the  history  of  the  world? — a  man  made  permanently 
and  diplomatically  sacred,  so  to  speak,  by  having 
been  connected,  temporarily,  through  solicitation, 
with  every  single  diplomatic  post  in  the  roster  of  this 
government,  from  Envoy  Extraordinary  and  Minister 
Plenipotentiary  to  the  Court  of  St.  James,  all  the 
way  down  to  Consul  to  a  guano  rock  in  the  Strait  of 
Sunda — salary  payable  in  guano — which  disappeared 

16 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

by  volcanic  convulsion  the  day  before  they  got  down 
to  my  name  in  the  list  of  applicants.  Certainly 
something  august  enough  to  be  answerable  to  the  size 
of  this  unique  and  memorable  experience  was  my 
due,  and  I  got  it.  By  the  common  voice  of  this  com- 
munity, by  acclamation  of  the  people,  that  mighty 
utterance  which  brushes  aside  laws  and  legislation, 
and  from  whose  decrees  there  is  no  appeal,  I  was 
named  Perpetual  Member  of  the  Diplomatic  Body 
representing  the  multifarious  sovereignties  and  civili- 
zations of  the  globe  near  the  republican  court  of  the 
United  States  of  America.  And  they  brought  me 
home  with  a  torchlight  procession." 

"It  is  wonderful,  Colonel,  simply  wonderful." 

"It's  the  loftiest  official  position  in  the  whole 
earth." 

"I  should  think  so — and  the  most  commanding." 

' '  You  have  named  the  word.  Think  of  it.  I  frown, 
and  there  is  war;  I  smile,  and  contending  nations  lay 
down  their  arms." 

"It  is  awful.    The  responsibility,  I  mean." 

"It  is  nothing.  Responsibility  is  no  burden  to  me; 
I  am  used  to  it;  have  always  been  used  to  it." 

"And  the  work — the  work!  Do  you  have  to  at- 
tend all  the  sittings?" 

"Who,  I  ?  Does  the  Emperor  of  Russia  attend  the 
conclaves  of  the  governors  of  the  provinces?  He  sits 
at  home  and  indicates  his  pleasure." 

Washington  was  silent  a  moment,  then  a  deep  sigh 
escaped  him. 

"How  proud  I  was  an  hour  ago;  how  paltry  seems 
my  little  promotion  now !  Colonel,  the  reason  I  came 


MARK  .  TWAIN 

to  Washington  is — I  am  Congressional  Delegate  from 
Cherokee  Strip!" 

The  Colonel  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  broke  out, 
with  prodigious  enthusiasm: 

"Give  me  your  hand,  my  boy — this  is  immense 
news!  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart.  My 
prophecies  stand  confirmed.  I  always  said  it  was 
in  you.  I  always  said  you  were  born  for  high  dis- 
tinction and  would  achieve  it.  You  ask  Polly  if  I 
didn't." 

Washington  was  dazed  by  this  most  unexpected 
demonstration. 

"Why,  Colonel,  there's  nothing  to  it.  That  little, 
narrow,  desolate,  unpeopled,  oblong  streak  of  grass 
and  gravel,  lost  in  the  remote  wastes  of  the  vast  con- 
tinent— why,  it's  like  representing  a  billiard-table — a 
discarded  one." 

"Tut-tut,  it's  a  great,  it's  a  staving  preferment, 
and  just  opulent  with  influence  here." 

"Shucks,  Colonel,  I  haven't  even  a  vote." 

"That's  nothing;  you  can  make  speeches." 

"No,  I  can't.  The  population's  only  two  hun- 
dred—" 

"That's  all  right,  that's  all  right—" 

"And  they  hadn't  any  right  to  elect  me;  we're  not 
even  a  Territory,  there's  no  Organic  Act,  the  govern- 
ment hasn't  any  official  knowledge  of  us  whatever." 

"Never  mind  about  that;  I'll  fix  that.  I'll  rush 
the  thing  through ;  I'll  get  you  organized  in  no 
time." 

"Will  you,  Colonel? — it's  too  good  of  you;  but 
it's  just  your  old  sterling  self,  the  same  old  ever- 

18 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

faithful  friend,"  and  the  grateful  tears  welled  up  in 
Washington's  eyes. 

"It's  just  as  good  as  done,  my  boy,  just  as  good  as 
done.  Shake  hands.  We'll  hitch  teams  together, 
you  and  I,  and  we'll  make  things  hum!" 


CHAPTER  III 

MRS.  SELLERS  returned  now  with  her  com- 
posure restored,  and  began  to  ask  after 
Hawkins's  wife,  and  about  his  children,  and  the 
number  of  them,  and  so  on,  and  her  examination  of 
the  witness  resulted  in  a  circumstantial  history  of 
the  family's  ups  and  downs  and  driftings  to  and  fro 
in  the  Far  West  during  the  previous  fifteen  years. 
There  was  a  message  now  from  out  back,  and  Colonel 
Sellers  went  out  there  in  answer  to  it.  Hawkins  took 
this  opportunity  to  ask  how  the  world  had  been 
using  the  Colonel  during  the  past  half -generation. 

"Oh,  it's  been  using  him  just  the  same;  it  couldn't 
change  its  way  of  using  him  if  it  wanted  to,  for  he 
wouldn't  let  it." 

"I  can  easily  believe  that,  Mrs.  Sellers." 

"Yes,  you  see,  he  doesn't  change,  himself — not  the 
least  little  bit  in  the  world;  he's  always  Mulberry 
Sellers." 

"I  can  see  that  plain  enough." 

"Just  the  same  old  scheming,  generous,  good- 
hearted,  moonshiny,  hopeful,  no-account  failure  he 
always  was,  and  still  everybody  likes  him  just  as 
well  as  if  he  was  the  shiningest  success." 

"They  always  did;  and  it  was  natural,  because  he 
was  so  obliging  and  accommodating,  and  had  some- 

20 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

thing  about  him  that  made  it  kind  of  easy  to  ask 
help  of  him,  or  favors — you  didn't  feel  shy,  you 
know,  or  have  that  wish-you-didn't-have-to-try  feel- 
ing that  you  have  with  other  people." 

"It's  just  so  yet;  and  a  body  wonders  at  it,  too, 
because  he's  been  shamefully  treated,  many  times, 
by  people  that  had  used  him  for  a  ladder  to  climb  up 
by,  and  then  kicked  him  down  when  they  didn't  need 
him  any  more.  For  a  time  you  can  see  he's  hurt, 
his  pride's  wounded,  because  he  shrinks  away  from 
that  thing  and  don't  want  to  talk  about  it — and  so 
I  used  to  think  now  he's  learned  something  and  he'll 
be  more  careful  hereafter — but  laws!  in  a  couple  of 
weeks  he's  forgotten  all  about  it,  and  any  selfish 
tramp  out  of  nobody  knows  where  can  come  and  put 
up  a  poor  mouth  and  walk  right  into  his  heart  with 
his  boots  on." 

"It  must  try  your  patience  pretty  sharply  some- 
times." 

"Oh  no,  I'm  used  to  it;  and  I'd  rather  have  him 
so  than  the  other  way.  When  I  call  him  a  failure, 
I  mean  to  the  world  he's  a  failure;  he  isn't  to  me.  I 
don't  know  as  I  want  him  different — much  different, 
anyway.  I  have  to  scold  him  some,  snarl  at  him, 
you  might  even  call  it,  but  I  reckon  I'd  do  that  just 
the  same  if  he  was  different — it's  my  make.  But 
I'm  a  good  deal  less  snarly  and  more  contented  when 
he's  a  failure  than  I  am  when  he  isn't." 

"Then  he  isn't  always  a  failure,"  said  Hawkins, 
brightening. 

"Him?  Oh,  bless  you,  no.  He  makes  a  strike, 
as  he  calls  it,  from  time  to  time.  Then's  my  time 

21 


MARK    TWAIN 

to  fret  and  fuss.  For  the  money  just  flies — first 
come  first  served.  Straight  off,  he  loads  up  the 
house  with  cripples  and  idiots  and  stray  cats  and  all 
the  different  kinds  of  poor  wrecks  that  other  people 
don't  want  and  he  does,  and  then  when  the  poverty 
comes  again  I've  got  to  clear  the  most  of  them  out 
or  we'd  starve;  and  that  distresses  him,  and  me  the 
same,  of  course.  Here's  old  Dan'l  and  old  Jinny, 
that  the  sheriff  sold  South  one  of  the  times  that  we 
got  bankrupted  before  the  war — they  came  wander- 
ing back  after  the  peace,  worn  out  and  used  up  on 
the  cotton  plantations,  helpless,  and  not  another  lick 
of  w.ork  left  in  their  old  hides  for  the  rest  of  this 
earthly  pilgrimage  —  and  we  so  pinched,  oh,  so 
pinched  for  the  very  crumbs  to  keep  life  in  us,  and 
he  just  flung  the  door  wide,  and  the  way  he  received 
them  you'd  have  thought  they  had  come  straight 
down  from  heaven  in  answer  to  prayer.  I  took 
him  one  side  and  said,  'Mulberry,  we  can't  have 
them — we've  nothing  for  ourselves — we  can't  feed 
them.'  He  looked  at  me  kind  of  hurt,  and  said, 
'Turn  them  out? — and  they've  come  to  me  just 
as  confident  and  trusting  as — as — why,  Polly,  I  must 
have  bought  that  confidence  some  time  or  other 
a  long  time  ago,  and  given  my  note,  so  to  speak 
— you  don't  get  such  things  as  a  gift — and  how 
am  I  going  to  go  back  on  a  debt  like  that?  And 
you  see,  they're  so  poor,  and  old,  and  friendless, 
and — '  But  I  was  ashamed  by  that  time,  and  shut 
him  off,  and  somehow  felt  a  new  courage  in  me,  and 
so  I  said,  softly,  'We'll  keep  them — the  Lord  will 
provide.'  He  was  glad,  and  started  to  blurt  out  one 

22 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

of  those  over-confident  speeches  of  his,  but  checked 
himself  in  time,  and  said,  humbly,  'I  will,  anyway.' 
It  was  years  and  years  and  years  ago.  Well,  you 
see  those  old  wrecks  are  here  yet." 

"But  don't  they  do  your  housework?" 

"Laws!  The  idea.  They  would  if  they  could, 
poor  old  things,  and  perhaps  they  think  they  do  do 
some  of  it.  But  it's  a  superstition.  Dan'l  waits  on 
the  front  door,  and  sometimes  goes  on  an  errand; 
and  sometimes  you'll  see  one  or  both  of  them  letting 
on  to  dust  around  in  here — but  that's  because  there's 
something  they  want  to  hear  about  and  mix  their 
gabble  into.  And  they're  always  around  at  meals, 
for  the  same  reason.  But  the  fact  is,  we  have  to 
keep  a  young  negro  girl  just  to  take  care  of  them,  and 
a  negro  woman  to  do  the  housework  and  help  take 
care  of  them." 

"Well,  they  ought  to  be  tolerably  happy,  I  should 
think." 

"It's  no  name  for  it.  They  quarrel  together 
pretty  much  all  the  time — 'most  always  about  re- 
ligion, because  Danl's  a  Dunker  Baptist  and  Jinny's 
a  shouting  Methodist,  and  Jinny  believes  in  special 
Providences  and  Dan'l  don't,  because  he  thinks  he's 
a  kind  of  a  free-thinker — and  they  play  and  sing 
plantation  hymns  together,  and  talk  and  chatter  just 
eternally  and  forever,  and  are  sincerely  fond  of  each 
other  and  think  the  world  of  Mulberry,  and  he  puts 
up  patiently  with  all  their  spoiled  ways  and  foolish- 
ness, and  so — ah,  well,  they're  happy  enough,  if  it 
comes  to  that.  And  I  don't  mind — I've  got  used 
to  it.  I  can  get  used  to  anything,  with  Mulberry  tg 


MARK     TWAIN 

help ;  and  the  fact  is,  I  don't  much  care  what  happens, 
so  long  as  he's  spared  to  me." 

"Well,  here's  to  him,  and  hoping  he'll  make  an- 
other strike  soon." 

"And  rake  in  the  lame,  the  halt,  and  the  blind, 
and  turn  the  house  into  a  hospital  again?  It's  what 
he  would  do.  I've  seen  a  plenty  of  that  and  more. 
No,  Washington,  I  want  his  strikes  to  be  mighty 
moderate  ones  the  rest  of  the  way  down  the  vale." 

"Well,  then,  big  strike  or  little  strike,  or  no  strike 
at  all,  here's  hoping  he'll  never  lack  for  friends — 
and  I  don't  reckon  he  ever  will  while  there's  people 
around  who  know  enough  to — " 

"Him  lack  for  friends!"  and  she  tilted  her  head 
up  with  a  frank  pride — "why,  Washington,  you  can't 
name  a  man  that's  anybody  that  isn't  fond  of  him. 
I'll  tell  you  privately  that  I've  had  Satan's  own 
time  to  keep  them  from  appointing  him  to  some 
office  or  other.  They  knew  he'd  no  business  with  an 
office,  just  as  well  as  I  did,  but  he's  the  hardest  man 
to  refuse  anything  to  a  body  you  ever  saw.  Mul- 
berry Sellers  with  an  office!  laws  goodness,  you  know 
what  that  would  be  like.  Why,  they'd  come  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth  to  see  a  circus  like  that.  I'd 
just  as  lieves  be  married  to  Niagara  Falls,  and  done 
with  it. ' '  After  a  reflective  pause  she  added — having 
wandered  back,  in  the  interval,  to  the  remark  that 
had  been  her  text:  "Friends? — oh,  indeed,  no  man 
ever  had  more;  and  such  friends:  Grant,  Sherman, 
Sheridan,  Johnston,  Longstreet,  Lee  —  many's  the 
time  they've  sat  in  that  chair  you're  sitting  in — " 
Hawkins  was  out  of  it  instantly,  and  contemplating 

24 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

it  with  a  reverential  surprise,  and  with  the  awed 
sense  of  having  trodden  shod  upon  holy  ground : 

"They!"  he  said. 

"Oh,  indeed,  yes,  a  many  and  a  many  a  time." 

He  continued  to  gaze  at  the  chair,  fascinated, 
magnetized;  and  for  once  in  his  life  that  continental 
stretch  of  dry  prairie  which  stood  for  his  imagination 
was  afire,  and  across  it  was  marching  a  slanting 
flame-front  that  joined  its  wide  horizons  together  and 
smothered  the  skies  with  smoke.  He  was  experi- 
encing what  one  or  another  drowsing,  geographical- 
ly ignorant  alien  experiences  every  day  in  the  year 
when  he  turns  a  dull  and  indifferent  eye  out  of  the 
car  window  and  it  falls  upon  a  certain  station-sign 
which  reads,  "Stratford-on-Avon"!  Mrs.  Sellers  went 
gossiping  comfortably  along: 

"Oh,  they  like  to  hear  him  talk,  especially  if  their 
load  is  getting  rather  heavy  on  one  shoulder  and 
they  want  to  shift  it.  He's  all.  air,  you  know — 
breeze,  you  may  say — and  he  freshens  them  up;  it's 
a  trip  to  the  country,  they  say.  Many  a  time  he's 
made  General  Grant  laugh — and  that's  a  tidy  job, 
I  can  tell  you;  and  as  for  Sheridan,  his  eye  lights 
up  and  he  listens  to  Mulberry  Sellers  the  same  as 
if  he  was  artillery.  You  see,  the  charm  about  Mul- 
berry is,  he  is  so  catholic  and  unprejudiced  that  he 
fits  in  anywhere  and  everywhere.  It  makes  him 
powerful  good  company,  and  as  popular  as  scandal. 
You  go  to  the  White  House  when  the  President's 
holding  a  general  reception — some  time  when  Mul- 
berry's there.  Why,  dear  me,  you  can't  tell  which  of 
them  it  is  that's  holding  that  reception." 

25 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Well,  he  certainly  is  a  remarkable  man — and  he 
always  was.  Is  he  religious?" 

"  Clear  to  his  marrow — does  more  thinking  and 
reading  on  that  subject  than  any  other,  except 
Russia  and  Siberia;  thrashes  around  over  the  whole 
field,  too;  nothing  bigoted  about  him." 

"What  is  his  religion?" 

"He — "  She  stopped,  and  was  lost  for  a  moment 
or  two  in  thinking;  then  she  said,  with  simplicity, 
"I  think  he  was  a  Mohammedan  or  something  last 
week." 

Washington  started  down-town  now  to  bring  his 
trunk,  for  the  hospitable  Sellerses  would  listen  to  no 
excuses;  their  house  must  be  his  home  during  the 
session.  The  Colonel  returned  presently  and  re- 
sumed work  upon  his  plaything.  It  was  finished 
when  Washington  got  back. 

"There  it  is,"  said  the  Colonel,  "all  finished." 

"What  is  it  for,  Colonel?" 

' '  Oh,  it's  just  a  trifle.     Toy  to  amuse  the  children. ' ' 

Washington  examined  it. 

"It  seems  to  be  a  puzzle." 

"Yes,  that's  what  it  is.  I  call  it  Pigs  in  the  Clover. 
Put  them  in — see  if  you  can  put  them  in  the  pen." 

After  many  failures  Washington  succeeded,  and 
was  as  pleased  as  a  child. 

"It's  wonderfully  ingenious,  Colonel — it's  ever  so 
clever.  And  interesting — why,  I  could  play  with  it 
all  day.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?" 

"Oh,  nothing.     Patent  it  and  throw  it  aside." 

"Don't  you  do  anything  of  the  kind.  There's 
money  in  that  thing." 

26 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

A  compassionate  look  traveled  over  the  Colonel's 
countenance,  and  he  said: 

"Money — yes;  pin  money;  a  couple  of  hundred 
thousand,  perhaps.  Not  more." 

Washington's  eyes  blazed. 

"A  couple  of  hundred  thousand  dollars!  Do  you 
call  that  pin  money?" 

The  Colonel  rose  and  tiptoed  his  way  across  the 
room,  closed  a  door  that  was  slightly  ajar,  tiptoed 
his  way  to  his  seat  again,  and  said,  under  his 
breath: 

"You  can  keep  a  secret?" 

Washington  nodded  his  affirmative;  he  was  too 
awed  to  speak. 

"You  have  heard  of  materialization — materializa- 
tion of  departed  spirits?" 

Washington  had  heard  of  it. 

"And  probably  didn't  believe  in  it;  and  quite 
right,  too.  The  thing  as  practised  by  ignorant 
charlatans  is  unworthy  of  attention  or  respect — 
where  there's  a  dim  light  and  a  dark  cabinet,  and  a 
parcel  of  sentimental  gulls  gathered  together,  with 
their  faith  and  their  shudders  and  their  tears  all 
ready,  and  one  and  the  same  fatty  degeneration  of 
protoplasm  and  humbug  comes  out  and  materializes 
himself  into  anybody  you  want,  grandmother,  grand- 
child, brother-in-law,  Witch  of  Endor,  John  Milton, 
Siamese  Twins,  Peter  the  Great,  and  all  such  frantic 
nonsense — no,  that  is  all  foolish  and  pitiful.  But 
when  a  man  that  is  competent  brings  the  vast  powers 
of  science  to  bear,  it's  a  different  matter — a  totally 
different  matter,  you  see.  The  specter  that  answers 

27 


MARK     TWAIN 

that  call  has  come  to  stay.     Do  you  note  the  com- 
mercial value  of  that  detail?" 

"Well,  I — the — the  truth  is,  that  I  don't  quite 
know  that  I  do.  Do  you  mean  that  such,  being 
permanent,  not  transitory,  would  give  more  general 
satisfaction,  and  so  enhance  the  price  of  tickets  to 
the  show — " 

"Show?  Folly — listen  to  me;  and  get  a  good  grip 
on  your  breath,  for  you  are  going  to  need  it.  Within 
three  days  I  shall  have  completed  my  method,  and 
then — let  the  world  stand  aghast,  for  it  shall  see 
marvels.  Washington,  within  three  days — ten  at 
the  outside — you  shall  see  me  call  the  dead  of  any 
century,  and  they  will  arise  and  walk.  Walk? — they 
shall  walk  forever,  and  never  die  again.  Walk  with 
all  the  muscle  and  spring  of  their  pristine  vigor." 

' '  Colonel !  Indeed,  it  does  take  one's  breath  away. ' ' 

"Now  do  you  see  the  money  that's  in  it?" 

"I'm — well,  I'm — not  really  sure  that  I  do." 

' '  Great  Scott,  look  here !  I  shall  have  a  monopoly ; 
they'll  all  belong  to  me,  won't  they?  Two  thousand 
policemen  in  the  city  of  New  York.  Wages,  four 
dollars  a  day.  I'll  replace  them  with  dead  ones  at 
half  the  money." 

"Oh,  prodigious!  I  never  thought  of  that. 
F-o-u-r  thousand  dollars  a  day.  Now  I  do  begin  to 
see!  But  will  dead  policemen  answer?" 

"Haven't  they — up  to  this  time?" 

"Well,  if  you  put  it  that  way—" 

"Put  it  any  way  you  want  to.  Modify  it  to  suit 
yourself,  and  my  lads  shall  still  be  superior.  They 
won't  eat,  they  won't  drink — don't  need  those 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

things;  they  won't  wink  for  cash  at  gambling-dens 
and  unlicensed  rum-holes;  they  won't  spark  the 
scullery  maids;  and,  moreover,  the  bands  of  toughs 
that  ambuscade  them  on  lonely  beats  and  cowardly 
shoot  and  knife-  them  will  only  damage  the  uniforms, 
and  not  live  long  enough  to  get  more  than  a  mo- 
mentary satisfaction  out  of  that." 

"Why,  Col', Kiel,  if  you  can  furnish  policemen,  then 
of  course — " 

"Certainly — I  can  furnish  any  line  of  goods  that's 
wanted.  Take  the  army,  for  instance — now  twenty- 
five  thousand  men;  expense,  twenty- two  millions  a 
year.  I  will  dig  up  the  Romans,  I  will  resurrect  the 
Greeks,  I  will  furnish  the  government,  for  ten  mill- 
ions a  year,  ten  thousand  veterans  drawn  from  the 
victorious  legions  of  all  the  ages — soldiers  that  will 
chase  Indians  year  in  and  year  out  on  materialized 
horses,  and  cost  never  a  cent  for  rations  or  repairs. 
The  armies  of  Europe  cost  two  billions  a  year  now — 
I  will  replace  them  all  for  a  billion.  I  will  dig  up  the 
trained  statesmen  of  all  ages  and  all  climes,  and 
furnish  this  country  with  a  Congress  that  knows 
enough  to  come  in  out  of  the  rain — a  thing  that's 
never  happened  yet  since  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, and  never  will  happen  till  these  practi- 
cally dead  people  are  replaced  with  the  genuine 
article.  I  will  restock  the  thrones  of  Europe  with 
the  best  brains  and  the  best  morals  that  all  the  royal 
sepulchers  of  all  the  centuries  can  furnish — which 
isn't  promising  very  much — and  I'll  divide  the  wages 
and  the  civil  list,  fair  and  square,  merely  taking  my 
half  and—" 

29 


MARK     TWAIN 

"Colonel,  if  the  half  of  this  is  true,  there's  millions 
in  it — millions." 

"Billions  in  it — billions;  that's  what  you  mean. 
Why,  look  here;  the  thing  is  so  close  at  hand,  so 
imminent,  so  absolutely  immediate,  that  if  a  man 
were  to  come  to  me  now  and  say,  Colonel,  I  am  a 
little  short,  and  if  you  could  lend  me  a  couple  of 
billion  dollars  for —  Come  in!" 

This  in  answer  to  a  knock.  An  energetic-looking 
man  bustled  in  with  a  big  pocket-book  in  his  hand, 
took  a  paper  from  it  and  presented  it,  with  the  curt 
remark: 

"Seventeenth  and  last  call — you  want  to  out  with 
that  three  dollars  and  forty  cents  this  time  without 
fail,  Colonel  Mulberry  Sellers." 

The  Colonel  began  to  slap  this  pocket  and  that 
one,  and  feel  here  and  there  and  everywhere,  mut- 
tering: 

"What  have  I  done  with  that  wallet? — let  me  see 
— um — not  here,  not  there — oh,  I  must  have  left  it 
in  the  kitchen;  I'll  just  run  and — " 

"No,  you  won't — you'll  stay  right  where  you  are. 
And  you're  going  to  disgorge,  too — this  time." 

Washington  innocently  offered  to  go  and  look. 
When  he  was  gone  the  Colonel  said: 

"The  fact  is,  I've  got  to  throw  myself  on  your 
indulgence  just  this  once  more,  Suggs;  you  see,  the 
remittances  I  was  expecting — " 

"Hang  the  remittances — it's  too  stale — it  won't 
answer.  Come!" 

The  Colonel  glanced  about  him  in  despair.  Then 
his  face  lighted ;  he  ran  to  the  wall  and  began  to  dust 

30 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

off  a  peculiarly  atrocious  chromo  with  his  handker- 
chief. Then  he  brought  it  reverently,  offered  it  to 
the  collector,  averted  his  face,  and  said: 

"Take  it,  but  don't  let  me  see  it  go.  It's  the  sole 
remaining  Rembrandt  that — " 

"Rembrandt  be  damned;  it's  a  chromo." 

"Oh,  don't  speak  of  it  so,  I  beg  you.  It's  the 
only  really  great  original,  the  only  supreme  example, 
of  that  mighty  school  of  art  which — " 

"Art!    It's  the  sickest-looking  thing  I—" 

The  Colonel  was  already  bringing  another  horror 
and  tenderly  dusting  it. 

"Take  this  one  too — the  gem  of  my  collection — 
the  only  genuine  Fra  Angelico  that — " 

"Illuminated  liver-pad,  that's  what  it  is.  Give  it 
here — good  day — people  will  think  I've  robbed  a 
nigger  barber-shop." 

As  he  slammed  the  door  behind  him  the  Colonel 
shouted,  with  an  anguished  accent: 

"Do  please  cover  them  up — don't  let  the  damp 
get  at  them.  The  delicate  tints  in  the  Angelico — " 

But  the  man  was  gone. 

Washington  reappeared,  and  said  he  had  looked 
everywhere,  and  so  had  Mrs.  Sellers  and  the  servants, 
but  in  vain;  and  went  on  to  say  he  wished  he  could 
get  his  eye  on  a  certain  man  about  this  time — no 
need  to  hunt  up  that  pocket  -  book  then.  The 
Colonel's  interest  was  awake  at  once. 

"What  man?" 

"One-armed  Pete  they  call  him  out  there — out  in 
the  Cherokee  country,  I  mean.  Robbed  the  bank 
in  Tahlequah." 

3  31 


MARK     TWAIN 

"Do  they  have  banks  in  Tahlequah?" 

"Yes — a  bank,  anyway.  He  was  suspected  of 
robbing  it.  Whoever  did  it  got  away  with  more 
than  twenty  thousand  dollars.  They  offered  a  re- 
ward of  five  'thousand.  I  believe  I  _saw  that  very 
man  on  my  way  east." 

"No— is  that  so?" 

"I  certainly  saw  a  man  on  the  train  the  first  day 
I  struck  the  railroad  that  answered  the  description 
pretty  exactly — at  least,  as  to  clothes  and  a  lacking 
arm." 

"Why  didn't  you  get  him  arrested  and  claim  the 
reward?" 

"I  couldn't.  I  had  to  get  a  requisition,  of  course. 
But  I  meant  to  stay  by  him  till  I  got  my 
chance." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  he  left  the  train  during  the  night  some 
time." 

"Oh,  hang  it,  that's  too  bad!" 

"Not  so  very  bad,  either." 

"Why?" 

"Because  he  came  down  to  Baltimore  in  the  very 
train  I  was  in,  though  I  didn't  know  it  in  time. 
As  we  moved  out  of  the  station  I  saw  him  going 
toward  the  iron  gate  with  a  satchel  in  his  hand." 

"Good;  we'll  catch  him.     Let's  lay  a  plan." 

"Send  description  to  the  Baltimore  police?" 

' '  Why,  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  No.  Do  you 
want  them  to  get  the  reward?" 

"What  shall  we  do,  then?" 

The  Colonel  reflected. 

33 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"I'll  tell  you.     Put  a  personal  in  the  Baltimore 
Sun.    Word  it  like  this: 


A. 


DROP  ME  A  LINE,  PETE— 


"Hold  on.     Which  arm  has  he  lost?" 
"The  right." 
"Good.     Now  then: 

A    DROP  ME  A  LINE,  PETE,  EVEN  IF  YOU  HAVE  TO 
•  write  with  your  left  hand.    Address  X.  Y.  Z.,  General 
Post-office,  Washington.    From  YOU  KNOW  WHO. 

There— that  '11  fetch  him." 

"But  he  won't  know  who — will  he?" 
"No,  but  he'll  want  to  know,  won't  he?" 
"Why,  certainly— I  didn't  think  of  that.     What 

made  you  think  of  it?" 

"Knowledge  of  human  curiosity.     Strong  trait, 

very  strong  trait." 

"Now  I'll  go  to  my  room  and  write  it  out  and 

inclose  a  dollar  and  tell  them  to  print  it  to  the 

worth  of  that." 


CHAPTER  IV 

*THHE  day  wore  itself  out.  After  dinner  the  two 
X  friends  put  in  a  long  and  harassing  evening 
trying  to  decide  what  to  do  with  the  five  thousand 
dollars  reward  which  they  were  going  to  get  when 
they  should  find  One- Armed  Pete,  and  catch  him,  and 
prove  him  to  be  the  right  person,  and  extradite  him, 
and  ship  him  to  Tahlequah  in  the  Indian  Territory. 
But  there  were  so  many  dazzling  openings  for  ready 
cash  that  they  found  it  impossible  to  make  up  their 
minds  and  keep  them  made  up.  Finally,  Mrs.  Sellers 
grew  very  weary  of  it  all,  and  said: 

"What  is  the  sense  in  cooking  a  rabbit  before 
it's  caught?" 

Then  the  matter  was  dropped  for  the  time  being, 
and  all  went  to  bed.  Next  morning,  being  per- 
suaded by  Hawkins,  the  Colonel  made  drawings  and 
specifications,  and  went  down  and  applied  for  a 
patent  for  his  toy  puzzle,  and  Hawkins  took  the  toy 
itself  and  started  out  to  see  what  chance  there  might 
be  to  do  something  with  it  commercially.  He  did 
not  have  to  go  far.  In  a  small  old  wooden  shanty 
which  had  once  been  occupied  as  a  dwelling  by  some 
humble  negro  family  he  found  a  keen-eyed  Yankee 
engaged  in  repairing  cheap  chairs  and  other  second- 
hand furniture.  This  man  examined  the  toy  in- 

34 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

differently;  attempted  to  do  the  puzzle;  found  it  not 
so  easy  as  he  had  expected;  grew  more  interested, 
and  finally  emphatically  so;  achieved  a  success  at 
last,  and  asked: 

"Is  it  patented?" 

"Patent  applied  for." 

"That  will  answer.     What  do  you  want  for  it?" 

"What  will  it  retail  for?" 

"Well,  twenty-five  cents,  I  should  think." 

"What  will  you  give  for  the  exclusive  right?" 

"I  couldn't  give  twenty  dollars  if  I  had  to  pay 
cash  down;  but  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  make 
it  and  market  it,  and  pay  you  five  cents  royalty  on 
each  one." 

Washington  sighed.  Another  dream  disappeared; 
no  money  in  the  thing.  So  he  said: 

"All  right;  take  it  at  that.    Draw  me  a  paper." 

He  went  his  way  with  the  paper,  and  dropped  the 
matter  out  of  his  mind — dropped  it  out  to  make 
room  for  further  attempts  to  think  out  the  most 
promising  way  to  invest  his  half  of  the  reward  in 
case  a  partnership  investment  satisfactory  to  both 
beneficiaries  could  not  be  hit  upon. 

He  had  not  been  very  long  at  home  when  Sellers 
arrived  sodden  with  grief  and  booming  with  glad 
excitement — working  both  these  emotions  success- 
fully, sometimes  separately,  sometimes  together. 
He  fell  on  Hawkins's  neck  sobbing,  and  said: 

"Oh,  mourn  with  me,  my  frifcnd,  mourn  for  my 
desolate  house;  death  has  smitten  my  last  kinsman, 
and  I  am  Earl  of  Rossmore — congratulate  me!" 

He  turned  to  his  wife,  who  had  entered  while  this 

35 


MARK    TWAIN 

was  going  on,  put  his  arms  about  her,  and  said: 
"You  will  bear  up,  for  my  sake,  my  lady — it  had  to 
happen,  it  was  decreed." 

She  bore  up  very  well,  and  said: 

"It's  no  great  loss.  Simon  Lathers  was  a  poor, 
well-meaning,  useless  thing  and  no  account,  and  his 
brother  never  was  worth  shucks." 

The  rightful  earl  continued: 

"I  am  too  much  prostrated  by  these  conflicting 
griefs  and  joys  to  be  able  to  concentrate  my  mind 
upon  affairs;  I  will  ask  our  good  friend  here  to  break 
the  news  by  wire  or  post  to  the  Lady  Gwendolen,  and 
instruct  her  to — " 

11  What  Lady  Gwendolen?" 

"Our  poor  daughter,  who,  alas! — " 

"Sally  Sellers?  Mulberry  Sellers,  are  you  losing 
your  mind?" 

"There — please  do  not  forget  who  you  are,  and 
who  I  am;  remember  your  own  dignity,  be  con- 
siderate also  of  mine.  It  were  best  to  cease  from 
using  my  family  name  now,  Lady  Rossmore." 

"Goodness  gracious!  well,  I  never!  What  am  I 
to  call  you,  then?" 

"In  private,  the  ordinary  terms  of  endearment 
will  still  be  admissible,  to  some  degree;  but  in  pub- 
lic it  will  be  more  becoming  if  your  ladyship  will 
speak  to  me  as  my  lord,  or  your  lordship,  and  of  me 
as  Rossmore,  or  the  Earl,  or  his  Lordship,  and — " 

"Oh,  scat!    I  can't  ever  do  it,  Berry." 

"But,  indeed,  you  must,  my  love — we  must  live 
up  to  our  altered  position,  and  submit  with  what 
grace  we  may  to  its  requirements." 

36 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"Well,  all  right,  have  it  your  own  way;  I've  never 
set  my  wishes  against  your  commands  yet,  Mul — 
my  lord,  and  it's  late  to  begin  now,  though  to  my 
mind  it's  the  rottenest  foolishness  that  ever  was." 

"Spoken  like  my  own  true  wife!  There,  kiss  and 
be  friends  again." 

"But — Gwendolen!  I  don't  know  how  I  am  ever 
going  to  stand  that  name.  Why,  a  body  wouldn't 
know  Sally  Sellers  in  it.  It's  too  large  for  her;  land 
of  like  a  cherub  in  an  ulster,  and  it's  a  most  out- 
landish sort  of  a  name  anyway,  to  my  mind." 

"You'll  not  hear  her  find  fault  with  it,  my  lady." 

"That's  a  true  word.  She  takes  to  any  kind  of 
romantic  rubbish  like  she  was  born  to  it.  She  never 
got  it  from  me,  that's  sure.  And  sending  her  to 
that  silly  college  hasn't  helped  the  matter  any — just 
the  other  way." 

"Now  hear  her,  Hawkins!  Rowena-Ivanhoe  Col- 
lege is  the  selectest  and  most  aristocratic  seat  of 
learning  for  young  ladies  in  our  country.  Under  no 
circumstances  can  a  girl  get  in  there  unless  she  is 
either  very  rich  and  fashionable  or  can  prove  four 
generations  of  what  may  be  called  American  nobility. 
Castellated  college  -  buildings — towers  and  turrets 
and  an  imitation  moat — and  everything  about  the 
place  named  out  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  books  and 
redolent  of  royalty  and  state  and  style;  and  all  the 
richest  girls  keep  phaetons,  and  coachmen  in  livery, 
and  riding-horses,  with  English  grooms  in  plug  hats 
and  tight-buttoned  coats,  and  top-boots,  and  a  whip- 
handle  without  any  whip  to  it,  to  ride  sixty-three  feet 
behind  them — " 

37 


MARK     TWAIN 

"And  they  don't  learn  a  blessed  thing,  Washington 
Hawkins,  not  a  single  blessed  thing  but  showy  rub- 
bish and  un-American  pretentiousness.  But  send 
for  the  Lady  Gwendolen — do;  for  I  reckon  the  peer- 
age regulations  require  that  she  must  come  home  and 
let  on  to  go  into  seclusion  and  mourn  for  those 
Arkansas  blatherskites  she's  lost." 

"My  darling!  Blatherskites?  Remember — no- 
blesse oblige." 

"There,  there — talk  to  me  in  your  own  tongue, 
Ross — you  don't  know  any  other,  and  you  only 
botch  it  when  you  try.  Oh,  don't  stare — it  was  a 
slip,  and  no  crime;  customs  of  a  lifetime  can't  be 
dropped  in  a  second.  Rossmor<? — there  now,  be 
appeased,  and  go  along  with  you  and  attend  to 
Gwendolen.  Are  you  going  to  write,  Washington? 
— or  telegraph?" 

"He  will  telegraph,  dear." 

"I  thought  as  much,"  my  lady  muttered,  as  she 
left  the  room.  "Wants  it  so  the  address  will  have 
to  appear  on  the  envelope.  It  will  just  make  a 
fool  of  that  child.  She'll  get  it,  of  course,  for  if 
there  are  any  other  Sellerses  there  they'll  not  be 
able  to  claim  it.  And  just  leave  her  alone  to  show 
it  around  and  make  the  most  of  it.  ...  Well,  maybe 
she's  forgivable  for  that.  She's  so  poor  and  they're 
so  rich,  of  course  she's  had  her  share  of  snubs  from 
the  livery-flunky  sort,  and  I  reckon  it's  only  human 
to  want  to  get  even." 

Uncle  Dan'l  was  sent  with  the  telegram;  for  al- 
though a  conspicuous  object  in  a  corner  of  the 
<irawing-room  was  a  telephone  hanging  on  a  trans- 

38 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

mitter,  Washington  found  all  attempts  to  raise  the 
central  office  vain.  The  Colonel  grumbled  some- 
thing about  its  being  "always  out  of  order  when 
you've  got  particular  and  especial  use  for  it,"  but 
he  didn't  explain  that  one  of  the  reasons  for  this  was 
that  the  thing  was  only  a  dummy  and  hadn't  any 
wire  attached  to  it.  And  yet  the  Colonel  often 
used  it — when  visitors  were  present — and  seemed 
to  get  messages  through  it.  Mourning-paper  and  a 
seal  were  ordered;  then  the  friends  took  a  rest. 

Next  afternoon,  while  Hawkins,  by  request, 
draped  Andrew  Jackson's  portrait  with  crape,  the 
rightful  earl  wrote  off  the  family  bereavement  to  the 
usurper  in  England — a  letter  which  we  have  already 
read.  He  also,  by  letter  to  the  village  authorities 
at  Duffy's  Corners,  Arkansas,  gave  order  that  the 
remains  of  the  late  twins  be  embalmed  by  some 
St.  Louis  expert  and  shipped  at  once  to  the  usurper 
— with  bill.  Then  he  drafted  out  the  Rossmore 
arms  and  motto  on  a  great  sheet  of  brown  paper,  and 
he  and  Hawkins  took  it  to  Hawkins's  Yankee  furni- 
ture-mender, and  at  the  end  of  an  hour  came  back 
with  a  couple  of  stunning  hatchments,  which  they 
nailed  up  on  the  front  of  the  house — attractions 
calculated  to  draw,  and  they  did;  for  it  was  mainly 
an  idle  and  shiftless  negro  neighborhood,  with 
plenty  of  ragged  children  and  indolent  dogs  to 
spare  for  a  point  of  interest  like  that,  and  keep  on 
sparing  them  for  it,  days  and  days  together. 

The  new  earl  found — without  surprise — this  so- 
ciety item  in  the  evening  paper,  and  cut  it  out  and 
scrap-booked  it : 

39 


MARK    TWAIN 

By  a  recent  bereavement  our  esteemed  fellow-citizen,  Colonel 
Mulberry  Sellers,  Perpetual  Member-at-large  of  the  Diplomatic 
Body,  succeeds,  as  rightful  lord,  to  the  great  earldom  of  Ross- 
more,  third  by  order  of  precedence  in  the  earldoms  of  Great 
Britain,  and  will  take  early  measures,  by  suit  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  to  wrest  the  title  and  estates  from  the  present  usurping 
holder  of  them.  Until  the  season  of  mourning  is  past,  the 
usual  Thursday  evening  receptions  at  Rossmore  Towers  will  be 
discontinued. 

Lady  Rossmore's  comment — to  herself: 
"Receptions!    People  who  don't  rightly  know  him 
may  think  he  is  commonplace,  but  to  my  mind  he 
is  one  of  the  most  unusual  men  I  ever  saw.     As  for 
suddenness  and  capacity  in  imagining  things,  his 
beat  don't  exist,  I  reckon.     As  like  as  not  it  wouldn't 
have  occurred  to  anybody  else  to  name  this  poor  old 
rat-trap  Rossmore  Towers,  but  it  just  comes  natural 
to  him.     Well,  no  doubt  it's  a  blessed  thing  to  have 
an  imagination  that  can  always  make  you  satisfied, , 
no  matter  how  you  are  fixed.     Uncle  Dave  Hopkins 
used  to  always  say,  'Turn  me  into  John  Calvin,  and 
I  want  to  know  which  place  I'm  going  to;  turn  me 
into  Mulberry  Sellers,  and  I  don't  care."1 
The  rightful  earl's  comment — to  himself: 
"It's  a  beautiful  name,  beautiful.     Pity  I  didn't 
think  of  it  before  I  wrote  the  usurper.     But  I'll  be 
ready  for  him  when  he  answers." 


CHAPTER  V 

i 

NO  answer  to  that  telegram;  no  arriving  daughter. 
Yet  nobody  showed  any  uneasiness  or  seemed 
surprised;  that  is,  nobody  but  Washington.  After 
three  days  of  waiting  he  asked  Lady  Rossmore  what 
she  supposed  the  trouble  was.  She  answered  tran- 
quilly: 

"Oh,  it's  some  notion  of  hers;  you  never  can  tell. 
She's  a  Sellers  all  through — at  least,  in  some  of  her 
ways;  and  a  Sellers  can't  tell  you  beforehand  what 
he's  going  to  do,  because  he  don't  know  himself  till 
he's  done  it.  She's  all  right;  no  occasion  to  worry 
about  her.  When  she's  ready  she'll  come  or  she'll 
write,  and  you  can't  tell  which  till  it's  happened." 

It  turned  out  to  be  a  letter.  It  was  handed  in  at 
that  moment,  and  was  received  by  the  mother  with- 
out trembling  hands  or  feverish  eagerness,  or  any 
other  of  the  manifestations  common  in  the  case  of 
long-delayed  answers  to  imperative  telegrams.  She 
polished  her  glasses  with  tranquillity  and  thor- 
oughness, pleasantly  gossiping  along  the  while,  then 
opened  the  letter  and  began  to  read  aloud: 

KENILWORTH  KEEP,  REDGAUNTLET  HALL, 

ROWENA-IVANHOE  COLLEGE,  THURSDAY. 
DEAR  PRECIOUS  MAMMA  ROSSMORE: 

Oh,  the  joy  of  it! — you  can't  think.  They  had  always  turned 
up  their  noses  at  our  pretensions,  you  know;  and  I  had  fought 

41 


MARK    TWAIN 

back  as  well  as  I  could  by  turning  up  mine  at  theirs.  They 
always  said  it  might  be  something  great  and  fine  to  be  the 
rightful  Shadow  of  an  earldom,  but  to  merely  be  shadow  of  a 
shadow,  and  two  or  three  times  removed  at  that — pooh-pooh! 
And  I  always  retorted  that  not  to  be  able  to  show  four  generations 
of  American-Colonial-Dutch-Peddler-and-Salt-Cod-McAllister 
Nobility  might  be  endurable,  but  to  have  to  confess  such  an  ori- 
gin— pfew-few!  Well,  the  telegram,  it  was  just  a  cyclone!  The 
messenger  came  right  into  the  great  Rob  Roy  Hall  of  Audience, 
as  excited  as  he  could  be,  singing  out,  "Despatch  for  Lady 
Gwendolen  Sellers!"  and  you  ought  to  have  seen  that  simpering 
chattering  assemblage  of  pinchbeck  aristocrats  turn  to  stone! 
I  was  off  in  the  corner,  of  course,  by  myself — it's  where  Cinderella 
belongs.  I  took  the  telegram  and  read  it,  and  tried  to  faint — • 
and  I  could  have  done  it  if  I  had  had  any  preparation,  but  it 
was  all  so  sudden,  you  know — but  no  matter,  I  did  the  next  best 
thing:  I  put  my  handkerchief  to  my  eyes  and  fled  sobbing  to 
my  room,  dropping  the  telegram  as  I  started.  I  released  one 
corner  of  my  eye  a  moment — just  enough  to  see  the  herd  swarm 
for  the  telegram — and  then  continued  my  broken-hearted  flight 
just  as  happy  as  a  bird. 

Then  the  visits  of  condolence  began,  and  I  had  to  accept  the 
loan  of  Miss  Augusta-Templeton-Ashmore  Hamilton's  quarters 
because  the  press  was  so  great  and  there  isn't  room  for  three  and 
a  cat  in  mine.  And  I've  been  holding  a  Lodge  of  Sorrow  ever 
since  and  defending  myself  against  people's  attempts  to  claim 
kin.  And  do  you  know,  the  very  first  girl  to  fetch  her  tears  and 
sympathy  to  my  market  was  that  foolish  Skimperton  girl  who 
has  always  snubbed  me  so  shamefully  and  claimed  lordship  and 
precedence  of  the  whole  college  because  some  ancestor  of  hers* 
some  time  or  other,  was  a  McAllister.  Why,  it  was  like  the 
bottom  bird  in  the  menagerie  putting  on  airs  because  its  head 
ancestor  was  a  pterodactyl. 

But  the  ger-reatest  triumph  of  all  was — guess.  But  you'll 
never.  This  is  it.  That  little  fool  and  two  others  have  always 
been  fussing  and  fretting  over  which  was  entitled  to  precedence 
— by  rank,  you  know.  They've  nearly  starved  themselves  at 
it;  for  each  claimed  the  right  to  take  precedence  of  all  the 
college  in  leaving  the  table,  and  so  neither  of  them  ever  finished 
her  dinner,  but  broke  off  in  the  middle  and  tried  to  get  out 
ahead  of  the  others.  Well,  after  my  first  day's  grief  and  seclusion 

42 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

— I  was  fixing  up  a  mourning  dress,  you  see — I  appeared  at  the 
public  table  again,  and  then — what  do  you  think?  Those  three 
fluffy  goslings  sat  there  contentedly,  and  squared  up  the  long 
famine — lapped  and  lapped,  munched  and  munched,  ate  and 
ate,  till  the  gravy  appeared  in  their  eyes — humbly  waiting  for  the 
Lady  Gwendolen  to  take  precedence  and  move  out  first,  you  see! 

Oh,  yes,  I've  been  having  a  darling  good  time.  And  do  you 
know,  not  one  of  these  collegians  has  had  the  cruelty  to  ask 
me  how  I  came  by  my  new  name.  With  some,  this  is  due  to 
charity,  but  with  the  others  it  isn't.  They  refrain,  not  from 
native  kindness  but  from  educated  discretion.  I  educated  them. 

Well,  as  soon  as  I  shall  have  settled  up  what's  left  of  the  old 
scores  and  snuffed  up  a  few  more  of  those  pleasantly  intoxicating 
clouds  of  incense,  I  shall  pack  and  depart  homeward.  Tell 
papa  I  am  as  fond  of  him  as  I  am  of  my  new  name.  I  couldn't 
put  it  stronger  than  that.  What  an  inspiration  it  was!  But 
inspirations  come  easy  to  him. 

These,  from  your  loving  daughter, 

GWENDOLEN. 

Hawkins  reached  for  the  letter  and  glanced  over  it. 

"Good  hand,"  he  said,  "and  full  of  confidence  and 
animation,  and  goes  racing  right  along.  She's  bright 
— that's  plain." 

"Oh,  they're  all  bright — the  Sellerses.  Anyway, 
they  would  be,  if  there  were  any.  Even  those  poor 
Latherses  would  have  been  bright  if  they  had  been 
Sellerses;  I  mean  full  blood.  Of  course  they  had  a 
Sellers  strain  in  them — a  big  strain  of  it,  too — but 
being  a  Bland  dollar  don't  make  it  a  dollar  just  the 
same." 

The  seventh  day  after  the  date  of  the  telegram 
Washington  came  dreaming  down  to  breakfast  and 
was  set  wide  awake  by  an  electrical  spasm  of  pleasure. 
Here  was  the  most  beautiful  young  creature  he  had 
ever  seen  in  his  life.  It  was  Sally  Sellers  Lady 

43  ! 


MARK    TWAIN 

Gwendolen;  she  had  come  in  the  night.  And  it 
seemed  to  him  that  her  clothes  were  the  prettiest  and 
the  daintiest  he  had  ever  looked  upon,  and  the  most 
exquisitely  contrived  and  fashioned  and  combined, 
as  to  decorative  trimmings,  and  fixings,  and  melting 
harmonies  of  color.  It  was  only  a  morning  dress, 
and  inexpensive,  but  he  confessed  to  himself,  in  the 
English  common  to  Cherokee  Strip,  that  it  was  a 
"corker."  And  now,  as  he  perceived,  the  reason 
why  the  Sellers  household  poverties  and  sterilities 
had  been  made  to  blossom  like  the  rose,  and  charm 
the  eye  and  satisfy  the  spirit,  stood  explained;  here 
was  the  magician;  here  in  the  midst  of  her  works, 
and  furnishing  in  her  own  person  the  proper  accent 
and  climaxing  finish  of  the  whole. 

"My  daughter,  Major  Hawkins — come  home  to 
mourn;  flown  home  at  the  call  of  affliction  to  help  the 
authors  of  her  being  bear  the  burden  of  bereavement.. 
She  was  very  fond  of  the  late  earl — idolized  him,  sir, 
idolized  him — " 

"Why,  father,  I've  never  seen  him." 

"True — she's  right,  I  was  thinking  of  another — • 
er — of  her  mother — " 

"I  idolized  that  smoked  haddock? — that  senti- 
mental, spiritless — " 

"I  was  thinking  of  myself!  Poor  noble  fellow, 
we  were  inseparable  com — " 

' '  Hear  the  man !  Mulberry  Sel — Mul — Rossmore ! 
— hang  the  troublesome  name,  I  can  never — if  I've 
heard  you  say  once  I've  heard  you  say  a  thousand 
times  that  if  that  poor  sheep — " 

"I  was  thinking  of — of — I  don't  know  who  I  was 
44 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

thinking  of,  and  it  doesn't  make  any  difference  any- 
way; somebody  idolized  him,  I  recollect  it  as  if  it 
were  yesterday;  and — " 

"Father,  I  am  going  to  shake  hands  with  Major 
Hawkins,  and  let  the  introduction  work  along  and 
catch  up  at  its  leisure.  I  remember  you  very  well, 
indeed,  Major  Hawkins,  although  I  was  a  little  child 
when  I  saw  you  last;  and  I  am  \ery,  very  glad, 
indeed,  to  see  you  again  and  ha\e  you  in  our  house 
as  one  of  us  ";  and  beaming  in  his  lace  she  finished 
her  cordial  shake  with  the  hope  that  he  had  not 
forgotten  her. 

He  was  prodigiously  pleased  by  her  outspoken, 
heartiness,  and  wanted  to  repay  her  by  assuring  her 
that  he  remembered  her,  and  not  only  that  but 
better  even  than  he  remembered  his  own  children, 
but  the  facts  would  not  quite  warrant  this;  still,  he 
stumbled  through  a  tangled  sentence  which  answered 
just  as  well,  since  the  purport  of  it  was  an  awkward 
and  unintentional  confession  that  her  extraordinary 
beauty  had  so  stupefied  him  that  he  hadn't  got  back 
to  his  bearings  yet,  and  therefore  couldn't  be  certain 
as  to  whether  he  remembered  her  at  all  or  not.  The 
speech  made  him  her  friend;  it  couldn't  well  help  it. 

In  truth,  the  beauty  of  this  fair  creature  was  of  a 
rare  type,  and  may  well  excuse  a  moment  of  our  time 
spent  in  its  consideration.  It  did  not  consist  in  the 
fact  that  she  had  eyes,  nose,  mouth,  chin,  hair,  ears; 
it  consisted  in  their  arrangement.  In  true  beauty, 
more  depends  upon  right  location  and  judicious 
distribution  of  feature  than  upon  multiplicity  of 
them.  So  also  as  regards  color.  The  very  combi- 

45 


MARK    TWAIN 

nation  of  colors  which  in  a  volcanic  irruption  would 
add  beauty  to  a  landscape  might  detach  it  from  a 
girl.  Such  was  Gwendolen  Sellers. 

The  family  circle  being  completed  by  Gwendolen's 
arrival,  it  was  decreed  that  the  official  mourning 
should  now  begin;  that  it  should  begin  at  six  o'clock 
every  evening  (the  dinner  hour)  and  end  with  the 
dinner. 

"It's  a  grand  old  line,  Major,  a  sublime  old  line, 
and  deserves  to  be  mourned  for  almost  royally;  al- 
most imperially,  I  may  say.  Er — Lady  Gwendolen 
— but  she's  gone;  never  mind;  I  wanted  my  Peerage; 
I'll  fetch  it  myself,  presently,  and  show  you  a  thing 
or  two  that  will  give  you  a  realizing  idea  of  what 
our  house  is.  I've  been  glancing  through  Burke,  and 
I  find  that  of  William  the  Conqueror's  sixty-four 
natural  ch —  My  dear,  would  you  mind  getting  me 
that  book?  It's  on  the  escritoire  in  our  boudoir. 
Yes,  as  I  was  saying,  there's  only  St.  Albans,  Buc- 
cleuch,  and  Grafton  ahead  of  us  on  the  list — all  the 
rest  of  the  British  nobility  are  in  procession  behind 
us.  Ah,  thanks,  my  lady.  Now  then,  we  turn  to 
William,  and  we  find — letter  for  XYZ  ?  Oh,  splendid 
— when'd  you  get  it?" 

"Last  night;  but  I  was  asleep  before  you  came, 
you  were  out  so  late;  and  when  I  came  to  breakfast 
Miss  Gwendolen — well,  she  knocked  everything  out 
of  me,  you  know — " 

"Wonderful  girl,  wonderful;  her  great  origin  is 
detectable  in  her  step,  her  carriage,  her  features — 
but  what  does  he  say?  Come,  this  is  exciting." 

' '  I  haven't  readit — er — Rossm — Mr.  Rossm — er — " 

46 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"M'lord!    Just  cut  it  short  like  that.     It's  the 
English  way.    I'll  open  it.    Ah,  now  let's  see. 


A. 


TO  YOU  KNOW  WHO.    Think  I  know  you.    Wait  ten 
days.    Coming  to  Washington. 


The  excitement  died  out  of  both  men's  faces. 
There  was  a  brooding  silence  for  a  while;  then  the 
younger  one  said,  with  a  sigh: 

"Why,  we  can't  wait  ten  days  for  the  money." 

"No — the  man's  unreasonable;  we  are  down  to 
the  bed  rock,  financially  speaking." 

"If  we  could  explain  to  him  in  some  way  that  we 
are  so  situated  that  time  is  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  us—" 

"Yes-yes,  that's  it — and  so  if  it  would  be  as  con- 
venient for  him  to  come  at  once  it  would  be  a  great 
accommodation  to  us,  and  one  which  we — which  we 
— which  we — wh — well,  which  we  should  sincerely 
appreciate — " 

"That's  it — and  most  gladly  reciprocate — " 

"Certainly— that  '11  fetch  him.  Worded  right,  if 
he's  a  man — got  any  of  the  feelings  of  a  man,  sympa- 
thies and  all  that,  he'll  be  here  inside  of  twenty- 
four  hours.  Pen  and  paper — come,  we'll  get  right 
at  it." 

Between  them  they  framed  twenty-two  different 
advertisements,  but  none  was  satisfactory.  A  main 
fault  in  all  of  them  was  urgency.  That  feature  was 
very  troublesome:  if  made  prominent,  it  was  calcu- 
lated to  excite  Pete's  suspicion;  if  modified  below  the 
suspicion-point  it  was  flat  and  meaningless.  Finally 
the  Colonel  resigned,  and  said: 
4  47 


MARK     TWAIN 

"I  have  noticed,  in  such  literary  experiences  as  I 
have  had,  that  one  of  the  most  taking  things  to  do 
is  to  conceal  your  meaning  when  you  are  trying  to 
conceal  it.  Whereas,  if  you  go  at  literature  with  a 
free  conscience  and  nothing  to  conceal,  you  can  turn 
out  a  book,  every  time,  that  the  very  elect  can't 
understand.  They  all  do." 

Then  Hawkins  resigned  also,  and  the  two  agreed 
that  they  must  manage  to  wait  the  ten  days  some- 
how or  other.  Next,  they  caught  a  ray  of  cheer; 
since  they  had  something  definite  to  go  upon  now 
they  could  probably  borrow  money  on  the  reward — 
enough,  at  any  rate,  to  tide  them  over  till  they  got 
it;  and  meantime  the  materializing  recipe  would  be 
perfected,  and  then  good -by  to  trouble  for  good 
and  all. 

The  next  day,  May  the  loth,  a  couple  of  things 
happened — among  others.  The  remains  of  the  noble 
Arkansas  twins  left  our  shores  for  England,  con- 
signed to  Lord  Rossmore,  and  Lord  Rossmore 's  son, 
Kirkcudbright  Llanover  Marjoribanks  Sellers  Vis- 
count Berkeley,  sailed  from  Liverpool  for  America 
to  place  the  reversion  of  the  earldom  in  the  hands 
of  the  rightful  peer,  Mulberry  Sellers,  of  Rossmore 
Towers  in  the  District  of  Columbia,  U.  S.  A. 

These  two  impressive  shipments  would  meet  and 
part  in  mid- Atlantic  five  days  later,  and  give  no  sign. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  the  course  of  time  the  twins  arrived  and  were 
delivered  to  their  great  kinsman.  To  try  to 
describe  the  rage  of  that  old  man  would  profit  noth- 
ing, the  attempt  would  fall  so  far  short  of  the 
purpose.  However,  when  he  had  worn  himself  out 
and  got  quiet  again,  he  looked  the  matter  over  and 
decided  that  the  twins  had  some  moral  rights,  al- 
though they  had  no  legal  ones;  they  were  of  his  blood, 
and  it  could  not  be  decorous  to  treat  them  as  common 
clay.  So  he  laid  them  with  their  majestic  kin  in  the 
Cholmondeley  church,  with  imposing  state  and 
ceremony,  and  added  the  supreme  touch  by  offi- 
ciating as  chief  mourner  himself.  But  he  drew  the 
line  at  hatchments. 

Our  friends  in  Washington  watched  the  weary 
days  go  by  while  they  waited  for  Pete  and  covered 
his  name  with  reproaches  because  of  his  calamitous 
procrastinations.  Meantime,  Sally  Sellers,  who  was 
as  practical  and  democratic  as  the  Lady  Gwendolen 
Sellers  was  romantic  and  aristocratic,  was  leading  a 
life  of  intense  interest  and  activity,  and  getting  the 
most  she  could  out  of  her  double  personality.  All 
day  long  in  the  privacy  of  her  work-room  Sally  Sel- 
lers earned  bread  for  the  Sellers  family,  and  all 
the  evening  Lady  Gwendolen  Sellers  supported  the 

49 


MARK    TWAIN 

Rossmore  dignity.  All  day  she  was  American,  prac- 
tically, and  proud  of  the  work  of  her  head  and  liands 
and  its  commercial  result;  all  the  evening  she  took 
holiday  and  dwelt  in  a  rich  shadowland  peopled  with 
titled  and  coroneted  fictions.  By  day,  to  her,  the 
place  was  a  plain,  unaffected,  ramshackle  old  trap 
— just  that,  and  nothing  more;  by  night  it  was  Ross- 
more  Towers.  At  college  she  had  learned  a  trade 
without  knowing  it.  The  girls  had  found  out  that 
she  was  the  designer  of  her  own  gowns.  She  had 
no  idle  moments  after  that,  and  wanted  none;  for 
the  exercise  of  an  extraordinary  gift  is  the  supremest 
pleasure  in  Kfe,  and  it  was  manifest  that  Sally  Sellers 
possessed  a  gift  of  that  sort  in  the  matter  of  costume 
designing.  Within  three  days  after  reaching  home 
she  had  hunted  up  some  work;  before  Pete  was  yet 
due  in  Washington,  and  before  the  twins  were  fairly 
asleep  in  English  soil,  she  was  already  nearly  swamped 
with  work,  and  the  sacrificing  of  the  family  chromos 
for  debt  had  got  an  effective  check. 

"She's  a  brick,"  said  Rossmore  to  the  Major; 
"just  her  father  all  over;  prompt  to  labor  with  head 
or  hands,  and  not  ashamed  of  it;  capable,  always 
capable,  let  the  enterprise  be  what  it  may;  success- 
ful by  nature — don't  know  what  defeat  is ;  thus,  in- 
tensely and  practically  American  by  inhaled  nation- 
alism, and  at  the  same  time  intensely  and  aristo- 
cratically European  by  inherited  nobility  of  blood. 
Just  me,  exactly;  Mulberry  Sellers  in  matter  of 
finance  and  invention;  after  office  hours,  what  do 
you  find  ?  The  same  clothes,  yes,  but  what's  in  them  ? 
Rossmore  of  the  peerage." 

So 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

The  two  friends  had  haunted  the  general  post- 
office  daily.  At  last  they  had  their  reward.  Toward 
evening  on  the  2oth  of  May  they  got  a  letter  for 
XYZ.  It  bore  the  Washington  postmark;  the  note 
itself  was  not  dated.  It  said: 

Ash  barrel  back  of  lamp  post  Black  horse  Alley.  If  you  are 
playing  square  go  and  set  on  it  to-morrow  morning  2ist  10.22 
not  sooner  not  later  wait  till  I  come. 

The  friends  cogitated  over  the  note  profoundly. 
Presently  the  earl  said: 

' '  Don't  you  reckon  he's  afraid  we  are  a  sheriff  with 
a  requisition?" 

"Why,  m'lord?" 

"Because  that's  no  place  for  a  seance.  Nothing 
friendly,  nothing  sociable  about  it.  And  at  the 
same  time,  a  body  that  wanted  to  know  who  was 
roosting  on  that  ash-barrel  without  exposing  him- 
self by  going  near  it,  or  seeming  to  be  interested  in 
it,  could  just  stand  on  the  street  corner  and  take  a 
glance  down  the  alley  and  satisfy  himself,  don't  you 
see?" 

"Yes,  his  idea  is  plain  now.  He  seems  to  be  a 
man  that  can't  be  candid  and  straightforward.  He 
acts  as  if  he  thought  we — shucks,  I  wish  he  had 
come  out  like  a  man  and  told  us  what  hotel  he — " 

"Now  you've  struck  it!  you've  struck  it  sure, 
Washington;  he  has  told  us." 

"Has  he?" 

"Yes,  he  has;  but  he  didn't  mean  to.  That  alley 
is  a  lonesome  little  pocket  that  runs  along  one  side 
of  the  New  Gadsby.  That's  his  hotel." 


MARK     TWAIN 

'  "What  makes  you  think  that?" 

"Why,  I  just  know  it.  He's  got  a  room  that's 
just  across  from  that  lamp-post.  He's  going  to  sit 
there  perfectly  comfortable  behind  his  shutters  at 
10.22  to-morrow,  and  when  he  sees  us  sitting  on  the 
ash-barrel,  he'll  say  to  himself,  'I  saw  one  of  those 
fellows  on  the  train* — and  then  he'll  pack  his  satchel 
in  half  a  minute  and  ship  for  the  ends  of  the  earth." 

Hawkins  turned  sick  with  disappointment. 

"Oh,  dear,  it's  all  up,  Colonel — it's  exactly  what 
he'll  do." 

"Indeed,  he  won't!" 

"Won't  he?    Why?" 

"Because  you  won't  be  holding  the  ash-barrel 
down;  it  '11  be  me.  You'll  be  coming  in  with  an 
officer  and  a  requisition  in  plain  clothes — the  officer, 
I  mean — the  minute  you  see  him  arrive  and  open  up 
a  talk  with  me." 

"Well,  what  a  head  you  have  got,  Colonel  Sellers! 
I  never  should  have  thought  of  that  in  the  world." 

"Neither  would  any  earl  of  Rossmore,  betwixt 
William's  contribution  and  Mulberry — as  earl;  but 
it's  office  hours  now,  you  see,  and  the  earl  in  me 
sleeps.  Come — I'll  show  you  his  very  room." 

They  reached  the  neighborhood  of  the  New  Gadsby 
about  nine  in  the  evening,  and  passed  down  the 
alley  to  the  lamp-post. 

"There  you  are,"  said  the  Colonel,  triumphantly, 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand  which  took  in  the  whole  side 
of  the  hotel.  "There  it  is— what  did  I  tell  you?" 

"Well,  but — why,  Colonel,  it's  six  stones  high. 
I  don't  quite  make  out  which  window  you — " 

5? 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"All  the  windows,  all  of  them.  Let  him  have  his 
choice — I'm  indifferent  now  that  I  have  located  him. 
You  go  and  stand  on  the  corner  and  wait;  I'll  pros- 
pect the  hotel." 

The  earl  drifted  here  and  there  through  the  swarm- 
ing lobby,  and  finally  took  a  waiting  position  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  elevator.  During  an  hour 
crowds  went  up  and  crowds  came  down;  and  all 
complete  as  to  limbs;  but  at  last  the  watcher  got  a 
glimpse  of  a  figure  that  was  satisfactory — got  a 
glimpse  of  the  back  of  it,  though  he  had  missed  his 
chance  at  the  face  through  waning  alertness.  The 
glimpse  revealed  a  cowboy  hat  and  below  it  a  plaided 
sack  of  rather  loud  pattern,  and  an  empty  sleeve 
pinned  up  to  the  shoulder.  Then  the  elevator 
snatched  the  vision  aloft,  and  the  watcher  fled 
away  in  joyful  excitement  and  rejoined  the  fellow- 
conspirator. 

"We've  got  him,  Major — got  him  sure!  I've 
seen  him — seen  him  good;  and  I  don't  care  where 
or  when  that  man  approaches  me  backwards,  I'll 
recognize  him  every  time.  We're  all  right.  Now  for 
the  requisition." 

They  got  it,  after  the  delays  usual  in  such  cases. 
By  half -past  eleven  they  were  at  home  and  happy, 
and  went  to  bed  full  of  dreams  of  the  morrow's 
great  promise. 

Among  the  elevator  load  which  had  the  suspect 
for  fellow-passenger  was  a  young  kinsman  of  Mul- 
berry Sellers,  but  Mulberry  was  not  aware  of  it  and 
didn't  see  him.  It  was  Viscount  Berkeley. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ARRIVED  in  his  room  Lord  Berkeley  made  prep- 
Ji\  arations  for  that  first  and  last  and  all-the- 
time  duty  of  the  visiting  Englishman — the  jotting 
down  in  his  diary  of  his  "impressions"  to  date.  His 
preparations  consisted  in  ransacking  his  "box"  for 
a  pen.  There  was  a  plenty  of  steel  pens  on  his 
table  with  the  ink-bottle,  but  he  was  English.  The 
English  people  manufacture  steel  pens  for  nineteen- 
twentieths  of  the  globe,  but  they  never  use  any 
themselves.  They  use  exclusively  the  prehistoric 
quill.  My  lord  not  only  found  a  quill  pen,  but  the 
best  one  he  had  seen  in  several  years — and  after 
writing  diligently  for  some  time,  closed  with  the 
following  entry: 

But  in  one  thing  I  have  made  an  immense  mistake.  I  ought 
to  have  sunk  my  title  and  changed  my  name  before  I  started. 

He  sat  admiring  that  pen  awhile,  and  then  went  on : 

All  attempts  to  mingle  with  the  common  people  and  become 
permanently  one  of  them  are  going  to  fail,  unless  I  can  get  rid 
of  it,  disappear  from  it,  and  reappear  with  the  solid  protection 
of  a  new  name,  I  am  astonished  and  pained  to  see  how  eager 
the  most  of  these  Americans  are  to  get  acquainted  with  a  lord, 
and  how  diligent  they  are  in  pushing  attentions  upon  him. 
They  lack  English  servility,  it  is  true — but  they  could  acquire 
it,  with  practice.  My  quality  travels  ahead  of  me  in  the  most 

54 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

mysterious  way.  I  write  my  family  name  without  additions, 
on  the  register  of  this  hotel,  and  imagine  that  I  am  going  to 
pass  for  an  obscure  and  unknown  wanderer,  but  the  clerk 
promptly  calls  out,  "Front!  show  his  lordship  to  four-eighty- 
two!"  and  before  I  can  get  to  the  lift  there  is  a  reporter  trying 
to  interview  me,  as  they  call  it.  This  sort  of  thing  shall  cease 
at  once.  I  will  hunt  up  the  American  Claimant  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning,  accomplish  my  mission,  then  change  my  lodging 
and  vanish  from  scrutiny  under  a  fictitious  name. 

He  left  his  diary  on  the  table,  where  it  would  be 
handy  in  case  any  new  "impressions"  should  wake 
him  up  in  the  night,  then  he  went  to  bed  and  pres- 
ently fell  asleep.  An  hour  or  two  passed,  and  then 
he  came  slowly  to  consciousness  with  a  confusion  of 
mysterious  and  augmenting  sounds  hammering  at 
the  gates  of  his  brain  for  admission;  the  next  moment 
he  was  sharply  awake,  and  those  sounds  burst  with 
the  rush  and  roar  and  boom  of  an  undammed  freshet 
into  his  ears.  Banging  and  slamming  of  shutters; 
smashing  of  windows  and  the  ringing  clash  of  falling 
glass;  clatter  of  flying  feet  along  the  halls;  shrieks, 
supplications,  dumb  meanings  of  despair  within, 
hoarse  shouts  of  command  outside;  cracklings  and 
snappings,  and  the  windy  roar  of  victorious  flames! 

Bang,  bang,  bang!  on  the  door,  and  a  cry: 

"Turn  out — the  house  is  on  fire!" 

The  cry  passed  on,  and  the  banging.  Lord 
Berkeley  sprang  out  of  bed  and  moved  with  all  pos- 
sible speed  toward  the  clothes-press  in  the  darkness 
and  the  gathering  smoke,  but  fell  over  a  chair  and 
lost  his  bearings.  He  groped  desperately  about  on 
his  hands,  and  presently  struck  his  head  against  the 
table  and  was  deeply  grateful,  for  it  gave  him  his 

55 


MARK    TWAIN 

bearings  again,  since  it  stood  close  by  the  door.  He 
seized  his  most  precious  possession,  his  journaled 
Impressions  of  America,  and  darted  from  the  room. 

He  ran  down  the  deserted  hall  toward  the  red 
lamp  which  he  knew  indicated  the  place  of  a  fire- 
escape.,  The  door  of  the  room  beside  it  was  open. 
In  the  room  the  gas  was  burning  full  head;  on  a  chair 
was  a  pile  of  clothing.  He  ran  to  the  window,  could 
not  get  it  up,  but  smashed  it  with  a  chair,  and 
stepped  out  on  the  landing  of  the  fire-escape;  below 
him  was  a  crowd  of  men,  with  a  sprinkling  of  women 
and  youth,  massed  in  a  ruddy  light.  Must  he  go 
down  in  his  spectral  night-dress?  No — this  side  of 
the  house  was  not  yet  on  fire  except  at  the  farther 
end;  he  would  snatch  on  those  clothes.  Which  he 
did.  They  fitted  well  enough,  though  a  trifle  loosely, 
and  they  were  just  a  shade  loud  as  to  pattern. 
Also  as  to  hat — which  was  of  a  new  breed  to  him, 
Buffalo  Bill  not  having  been  to  England  yet.  One 
side  of  the  coat  went  on,  but  the  other  side  refused; 
one  of  its  sleeves  was  turned  up  and  stitched  to 
the  shoulder.  He  started  down  without  waiting  to 
get  it  loose,  made  the  trip  successfully,  and  was 
promptly  hustled  outside  the  limit -rope  by  the 
police. 

The  cowboy  hat  and  the  coat  but  half  on  made 
him  too  much  of  a  center  of  attraction  for  comfort, 
although  nothing  could  be  more  profoundly  respect- 
ful, not  to  say  deferential,  than  was  the  manner  of 
the  crowd  toward  him.  In  his  mind  he  framed  a 
discouraged  remark  for  early  entry  in  his  diary:  "It 
is  of  no  use;  they  know  a  lord  through  any  disguise, 

56 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

and  show  awe  of  him — even  something  very  like  fear, 
indeed." 

Presently  one  of  the  gaping  and  adoring  half -circle 
of  boys  ventured  a  timid  question.  My  lord  an- 
swered it.  The  boys  glanced  wonderingly  at  each 
other,  and  from  somewhere  fell  the  comment: 

"English  cowboy!    Well,  if  that  ain't  curious." 

Another  mental  note  to  be  preserved  for  the  diary : 
"Cowboy.  Now  what  might  a  cowboy  be?  Per- 
haps— "  But  the  viscount  perceived  that  some  more 
questions  were  about  to  be  asked;  so  he  worked  his 
way  out  of  the  crowd,  released  the  sleeve,  put  on  the 
coat,  and  wandered  away  to  seek  a  humble  and 
obscure  lodging.  He  found  it,  and  went  to  bed  and 
was  soon  asleep. 

In  the  morning  he  examined  his  clothes.  They 
were  rather  assertive,  it  seemed  to  him,  but  they 
were  new  and  clean,  at  any  rate.  There  was  con- 
siderable property  in  the  pockets.  Item,  five  one- 
hundred-dollar  bills.  Item,  near  fifty  dollars  in 
small  bills  and  silver.  Plug  of  tobacco.  Hymn- 
book,  which  refuses  to  open;  found  to  contain 
whisky.  Memorandum  -  book  bearing  no  name. 
Scattering  entries  in  it,  recording  in  a  sprawling, 
ignorant  hand,  appointments,  bets,  horse-trades,  and 
so  on,  with  people  of  strange,  hyphenated  name — 
Six-Fingered  Jake,  Young-Man-Afraid-of-his-Shad- 
ow,  and  the  like.  No  letters,  no  documents. 

The  young  man  muses — maps  out  his  course.  His 
letter  of  credit  is  burned;  he  will  borrow  the  small 
bills  and  the  silver  in  these  pockets,  apply  part  of  it 
to  advertising  for  the  owner,  and  use  the  rest  for 

57 


MARK    TWAIN 

sustenance  while  he  seeks  work.  He  sends  out  for 
the  morning  paper  next,  and  proceeds  to  read  about 
the  fire.  The  biggest  line  in  the  display-head  an- 
nounces his  own  death!  The  body  of  the  account 
furnishes  all  the  particulars;  and  tells  how,  with  the 
inherited  heroism  of  his  caste,  he  went  on  saving 
women  and  children  until  escape  for  himself  was 
impossible;  then  with  the  eyes  of  weeping  multitudes 
upon  him,  he  stood  with  folded  arms  and  sternly 
awaited  the  approach  of  the  devouring  fiend;  "and 
so  standing,  amid  a  tossing  sea  of  flame  and  on- 
rushing  billows  of  smoke,  the  noble  young  heir  of 
the  great  house  of  Rossmore  was  caught  up  in  a 
whirlwind  of  fiery  glory,  and  disappeared  forever 
from  the  vision  of  men." 

The  thing  was  so  fine  and  generous  and  knightly 
that  it  brought  the  moisture  to  his  eyes.  Presently 
he  said  to  himself:  "What  to  do  is  as  plain  as  day 
now.  My  Lord  Berkeley  is  dead — let  him  stay  so. 
Died  creditably,  too;  that  will  make  the  calamity  the 
easier  for  my  father.  And  I  don't  have  to  report 
to  the  American  Claimant  now.  Yes,  nothing  could 
be  better  than  the  way  matters  have  turned  out.  I 
have  only  to  furnish  myself  with  a  new  name,  and 
take  my  new  start  in  life  totally  untrammeled.  Now 
I  breathe  my  first  breath  of  real  freedom;  and  how 
fresh  and  breezy  and  inspiring  it  is !  At  last  I  am  a 
man!  a  man  on  equal  terms  with  my  neighbor;  and 
by  my  manhood,  and  by  it  alone,  I  shall  rise  and  be 
seen  of  the  world,  or  I  shall  sink  from  sight  and 
deserve  it.  This  is  the  gladdest  day,  and  the 
proudest,  that  ever  poured  its  sun  upon  my  head!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

bless  my  soul,  Hawkins!" 
The  morning  paper  dropped  from  the  Col- 
onel's nerveless  grasp. 

"What  is  it?" 

"He's  gone! — the  bright,  the  young,  the  gifted, 
the  noblest  of  his  illustrious  race — gone!  gone  up  in 
flames  and  unimaginable  glory!" 

"Who?" 

"My  precious,  precious  young  kinsman — Kirk- 
cudbright Llanover  Marjoribanks  Sellers  Viscount 
Berkeley,  son  and  heir  of  usurping  Rossmore." 

"No!" 

"It's  true— too  true." 

"When?" 

"Last  night." 

"Where?" 

"Right  here  in  Washington,  where  he  arrived  from 
England  last  night,  the  papers  say." 

"You  don't  say!" 

"Hotel  burned  down." 

"What  hotel?" 

"TheNewGadsby!" 

"Oh,  my  goodness!  And  have  we  lost  both  of 
them?" 

"Bath  who?" 

59 


MARK    TWAIN 

"One-Arm  Pete." 

"Oh,  great  guns!  I  forgot  all  about  him,  Oh,  I 
hope  not!" 

"Hope!  Well,  I  should  say!  Oh,  we  can't  spare 
him!  We  can  better  afford  to  lose  a  million  viscounts 
than  our  only  support  and  stay." 

They  searched  the  paper  diligently,  and  were 
appalled  to  find  that  a  one-armed  man  had  been  seen 
flying  along  one  of  the  halls  of  the  hotel  in  his  under- 
clothing and  apparently  out  of  his  head  with  fright, 
and  as  he  would  listen  to  no  one  and  persisted  in 
making  for  a  stairway  which  would  carry  him  to 
certain  death,  his  case  was  given  over  as  a  hopeless 
one. 

"Poor  fellow,"  sighed  Hawkins;  "and  he  had 
friends  so  near.  I  wish  we  hadn't  come  away  from 
there — maybe  we  could  have  saved  him." 

The  earl  looked  up  and  said,  calmly: 

"His  being  dead  doesn't  matter.  He  was  un- 
certain before.  We've  got  him  sure,  this  time." 

"Got  him?    How?" 

"I  will  materialize  him." 

"Rossmore,  don't — don't  trifle  with  me.  Do  you 
mean  that?  Can  you  do  it?" 

"I  can  doit,  just  as  sure  as  you  are  sitting  there. 
And  I  will." 

"Give  me  your  hand,  and  let  me  have  the  comfort 
of  shaking  it.  I  was  perishing,  and  you  have  put 
new  life  into  me.  Get  at  it,  oh,  get  at  it  right  away." 

"It  will  take  a  little  time,  Hawkins,  but  there's 
no  hurry,  none  in  the  world — in  the  circumstances. 
And  of  course  certain  duties  have  devolved  upon 

60 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

me  now  which  necessarily  claim  my  first  attention. 
This  poor  young  nobleman — " 

"Why,  yes,  I  am  sorry  for  my  heartlessness,  and 
you  smitten  with  this  new  family  affliction.  Of 
course  you  must  materialize  him  first — I  quite  un- 
derstand that." 

"I — I — well,  I  wasn't  meaning  just  that,  but — 
why,  what  am  I  thinking  of!  Of  course  I  must 
materialize  him.  Oh,  Hawkins,  selfishness  is  the 
bottom  trait  in  human  nature;  I  was  only  thinking 
that  now,  with  the  usurper's  heir  out  of  the  way — 
But  you'll  forgive  that  momentary  weakness,  and 
forget  it.  Don't  ever  remember  it  against  me  that 
Mulberry  Sellers  was  once  mean  enough  to  think  the 
thought  that  I  was  thinking.  I'll  materialize  him — 
I  will,  on  my  honor — and  I'd  do  it  were  he  a  thousand 
heirs  jammed  into  one  and  stretching  in  a  solid  rank 
from  here  to  the  stolen  estates  of  Rossmore,  and 
barring  the  road  forever  to  the  rightful  earl!" 

"There  spoke  the  real  Sellers — the  other  had  a 
false  ring,  old  friend." 

"Hawkins,  my  boy,  it  just  occurs  to  me — a  thing 
I  keep  forgetting  to  mention — a  matter  that  we've  got 
to  be  mighty  careful  about." 

"What  is  that?" 

"We  must  keep  absolutely  still  about  these  ma- 
terializations. Mind,  not  a  hint  of  them  must  es- 
cape— not  a  hint.  To  say  nothing  of  how  my  wife 
and  daughter — high-strung,  sensitive  organizations — 
might  feel  about  them,  the  negroes  wouldn't  stay  on 
the  place  a  minute." 

"That's  true,  they  wouldn't.  It's  well  you  spoke, 

61 


MARK    TWAIN 

for  I'm  not  naturally  discreet  with  my  tongue  when 
I'm  not  warned." 

Sellers  reached  out  and  touched  a  bell  button  in 
the  wall,  set  his  eye  upon  the  rear  door  and  waited; 
touched  it  again  and  waited;  and  just  as  Hawkins 
was  remarking  admiringly  that  the  Colonel  was  the 
most  progressive  and  most  alert  man  he  had  ever 
seen,  in  the  matter  of  impressing  into  his  service 
every  modern  convenience  the  moment  it  was  in- 
vented, and  always  keeping  breast  to  breast  with  the 
drum-major  in  the  great  work  of  material  civiliza- 
tion, he  forsook  the  button  (which  hadn't  any  wire 
attached  to  it),  rang  a  vast  dinner-bell  which  stood 
on  the  table,  and  remarked  that  he  had  tried  that 
new-fangled  dry  battery  now  to  his  entire  satisfac- 
tion, and  had  got  enough  of  it;  and  added: 

"Nothing  would  do  Graham  Bell  but  I  must  try 
it ;  said  the  mere  fact  of  my  trying  it  would  secure 
public  confidence,  and  get  it  a  chance  to  show  what 
it  could  do.  I  told  him  that  in  theory  a  dry  battery 
was  just  a  curled  darling  and  no  mistake,  but  when 
it  come  to  practice,  sho! — and  here's  the  result.  Was 
I  right?  What  should  you  say,  Washington  Hawkins? 
You've  seen  me  try  that  button  twice.  Was  I  right? 
— that's  the  idea.  Did  I  know  what  I  was  talking 
about,  or  didn't  I?" 

"Well,  you  know  how  I  feel  about  you,  Colonel 
Sellers,  and  always  have  felt.  It  seems  to  me  that 
you  always  know  everything  about  everything.  If 
that  man  had  known  you  as  I  know  you  he  would 
have  taken  your  judgment  at  the  start,  and  dropped 
his  dry  battery  where  it  was.'^ 

6s 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"Did  you  ring,  Marse  Sellers?" 

"No,  Marse  Sellers  didn't." 

"Den  it  was  you,  Marse  Washington.  I's  heah, 
suh." 

"No,  it  wasn't  Marse  Washington,  either." 

"De  good  Ian'!  who  did  ring  her,  den?" 

"Lord  Rossmore  rang  it!" 

The  old  negro  flung  up  his  hands  and  exclaimed: 

"Blame  my  skin  if  I  hain't  gone  en  forgit  dat  name 
agin!  Come  heah,  Jinny — run  heah,  honey." 

Jinny  arrived. 

"You  take  dish-yer  order  de  lord  gwine  to  give  you. 
I's  gwine  down  suller  and  study  dat  name  tell  I  git 
it." 

"I  take  de  order!  Who's  yo*  nigger  las'  year? 
De  bell  rung  for  you." 

"Dat  don't  make  no  diffunce.  When  a  bell  ring 
for  anybody,  en  old  marster  tell  me  to — " 

"Clear  out,  and  settle  it  in  the  kitchen!" 

The  noise  of  the  quarreling  presently  sank  to  a 
murmur  in  the  distance,  and  the  earl  added :  "That's 
a  trouble  with  old  house-servants  that  were  your 
slaves  once  and  have  been  your  personal  friends 
always." 

"Yes,  and  members  of  the  family." 

' '  Members  of  the  family  is  just  what  they  become 
— tlie  members  of  the  family,  in  fact.  And  sometimes 
master  and  mistress  of  the  household.  These  two  are 
mighty  good  and  loving  and  faithful  and  honest,  but, 
hang  it,  they  do  just  about  as  they  please,  they  chip 
into  a  conversation  whenever  they  want  to,  and  the 
plain  fact  is  they  ought  to  be  killed." 

5  63 


MARK     TWAIN 

It  was  a  random  remark,  but  it  gave  him  an  idea — 
however,  nothing  could  happen  without  that  result. 

"What  I  wanted,  Hawkins,  was  to  send  for  the 
family  and  break  the  news  to  them." 

' '  Oh,  never  mind  bothering  with  the  servants,  then. 
I  will  go  and  bring  them  down." 

While  he  was  gone  the  earl  worked  his  idea. 

"Yes,"  he  said  to  himself,  "when  I've  got  the 
materializing  down  to  a  certainty,  I  will  get  Hawkins 
to  kill  them,  and  after  that  they  will  be  under  better 
control.  Without  doubt  a  materialized  negro  could 
easily  be  hypnotized  into  a  state  resembling  silence. 
And  this  could  be  made  permanent — yes,  and  also 
modifiable,  at  will — sometimes  very  silent,  sometimes 
turn  on  more  talk,  more  action,  more  emotion,  ac- 
cording to  what  you  want.  It's  a  prime  good  idea. 
Make  it  adjustable — with  a  screw  or  something." 

The  two  ladies  entered  now  with  Hawkins,  and  the 
two  negroes  followed,  uninvited,  and  fell  to  brushing 
and  dusting  around,  for  they  perceived  that  there 
was  matter  of  interest  to  the  fore,  and  were  willing 
to  find  out  what  it  was. 

Sellers  broke  the  news  with  stateliness  and  cere- 
mony, first  warning  the  ladies,  with  gentle  art,  that 
a  pang  of  peculiar  sharpness  was  about  to  be  inflicted 
upon  their  hearts — hearts  still  sore  from  a  like  hurt, 
still  lamenting  a  like  loss — then  he  took  the  paper, 
and  with  trembling  lips  and  with  tears  in  his  voice 
he  gave  them  that  heroic  death-picture. 

The  result  was  a  very  genuine  outbreak  of  sorrow 
and  sympathy  from  all  the  hearers.  The  elder  lady 
cried,  thinking  how  proud  that  great-hearted  young 

64 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

hero's  mother  would  be,  if  she  were  living,  and  how 
unappeasable  her  grief;  and  the  two  old  servants 
cried  with  her,  and  spoke  out  their  applauses  and 
their  pitying  lamentations  with  the  eloquent  sincerity 
and  simplicity  native  to  their  race.  Gwendolen  was 
touched,  and  the  romantic  side  of  her  nature  was 
strongly  wrought  upon.  She  said  that  such  a  nature 
as  that  young  man's  was  rarely  and  truly  noble,  and 
nearly  perfect ;  and  that  with  nobility  of  birth  added 
it  was  entirely  perfect.  For  such  a  man  she  could 
endure  all  things,  suffer  all  things,  even  to  the  sacri- 
ficing of  her  life.  She  wished  she  could  have  seen 
him;  the  slightest,  the  most  momentary  contact  with 
such  a  spirit  would  have  ennobled  her  whole  char- 
acter, and  made  ignoble  thoughts  and  ignoble  acts 
thereafter  impossible  to  her  forever. 

"Have  they  found  the  body,  Rossmore?"  asked 
the  wife. 

"Yes;  that  is,  they've  found  several.  It  must  be 
one  of  them,  but  none  of  them  are  recognizable." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"I  am  going  down  there  and  identify  one  of  them, 
and  send  it  home  to  the  stricken  father." 

"But,  papa,  did  you  ever  see  the  young  man?" 

"No,  Gwendolen — why?" 

"How  will  you  identify  it?" 

"I — well,  you  know,  it  says  none  of  them  are 
recognizable.  I'll  send  his  father  one  of  them — 
there's  probably  no  choice." 

Gwendolen  knew  it  was  not  worth  while  to  argue 
the  matter  further,  since  her  father's  mind  was  made 
up,  and  there  was  a  chance  for  him  to  appear  upon 

65 


MARK    TWAIN 

that  sad  scene  down  yonder  in  an  authentic  and 
official  way.  So  she  said  no  more — till  he  asked  for 
a  basket. 

"A  basket,  papa?    What  for?" 

"It  might  be  ashes." 


CHAPTER  IX 

*HE  earl  and  Washington  started  on  the  sorrowful 
1  errand,  talking  as  they  walked. 

"And  as  usual!" 

"What,  Colonel?" 

"Seven  of  them  in  that  hotel.  Actresses.  And 
all  burnt  out,  of  course." 

"Any  of  them  burnt  up?'1 

"Oh,  no,  they  escaped;  they  always  do;  but 
there's  never  a  one  of  them  that  knows  enough  to 
fetch  out  her  jewelry  with  her." 

"That's  strange." 

"Strange — it's  the  most  unaccountable  thing  in 
the  world.  Experience  teaches  them  nothing;  they 
can't  seem  to  learn  anything  except  out  of  a  book. 
In  some  cases  there's  manifestly  a  fatality  about  it. 
For  instance,  take  What's-her-name,  that  plays  those 
sensational  thunder-and-lightning  parts.  She's  got 
a  perfectly  immense  reputation — draws  like  a  dog- 
fight— and  it  all  came  from  getting  burnt  out  in 
hotels." 

"Why,  how  could  that  give  her  a  reputation  as 
an  actress?" 

"It  didn't — it  only  made  her  name  familiar. 
People  want  to  see  her  play  because  her  name  is 
familiar,  but  they  don't  know  what  made  it  familiar, 

67 


MARK    TWAIN 

because  they  don't  remember.  First,  she  was  at 
the  bottom  of  the  ladder  and  absolutely  obscure — 
wages  thirteen  dollars  a  week  and  find  her  own 
pads." 

"Pads?" 

"Yes — things  to  fat  up  her  spindles  with  so  as  to 
be  plump  and  attractive.  Well,  she  got  burnt  out 
in  a  hotel  and  lost  $30,000  worth  of  diamonds — " 

"  She  ?    Where'd  she  get  them  ?' ' 

"Goodness  knows — given  to  her,  no  doubt,  by 
spoony  young  flats  and  sappy  old  baldheads  in  the 
front  row.  All  the  papers  were  full  of  it.  She 
struck  for  higher  pay  and  got  it.  Well,  she  got 
burnt  out  again  and  lost  all  her  diamonds,  and  it 
gave  her  such  a  lift  that  she  went  starring." 

"Well,  if  hotel  fires  are  all  she's  got  to  depend  on 
to  keep  up  her  name,  it's  a  pretty  precarious  kind  of 
a  reputation,  I  should  think." 

"Not  with  her.  No,  anything  but  that.  Because 
she's  so  lucky;  born  lucky,  I  reckon.  Every  time 
there's  a  hotel  fire  she's  in  it.  She's  always  there — 
and  if  she  can't  be  there  herself,  her  diamonds  are. 
Now  you  can't  make  anything  out  of  that  but  just 
sheer  luck." 

"I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  She  must  have 
lost  quarts  of  diamonds." 

"Quarts!  she's  lost  bushels  of  them.  It's  got  so 
that  the  hotels  are  superstitious  about  her.  They 
won't  let  her  in.  They  think  there  will  be  a  fire; 
and,  besides,  if  she's  there  it  cancels  the  insurance. 
She's  been  waning  a  little  lately,  but  this  fire  will  set 
her  up.  She  lost  $60,000  worth  last  night." 

68 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"I  think  she's  a  fool.  If  I  had  $60,000  worth  of 
diamonds  I  wouldn't  trust  them  in  a  hotel." 

"I  wouldn't  either;  but  you  can't  teach  an  actress 
that.  This  one's  been  burnt  out  thirty-five  times. 
And  yet  if  there's  a  hotel  fire  in  San  Francisco 
to-night  she's  got  to  bleed  again,  you  mark  my  words. 
Perfect  ass;  they  say  she's  got  diamonds  in  every 
hotel  in  the  country." 

When  they  arrived  at  the  scene  of  the  fire  the 
poor  old  earl  took  one  glimpse  at  the  melancholy 
morgue  and  turned  away  his  face,  overcome  by  the 
spectacle.  He  said: 

"It  is  too  true,  Hawkins — recognition  is  impossi- 
ble; not  one  of  the  five  could  be  identified  by  its 
nearest  friend.  You.  make  the  selection;  I  can't 
bear  it." 

"Which  one  had  I  better—" 

"Oh,  take  any  of  them.     Pick  out  the  best  one." 

However,  the  officers  assured  the  earl — for  they 
knew  him,  everybody  in  Washington  knew  him — 
that  the  position  in  which  these  bodies  were  found 
made  it  impossible  that  any  one  of  them  could  be 
that  of  his  noble  young  kinsman.  They  pointed  out 
the  spot  where,  if  the  newspaper  account  was  correct, 
he  must  have  sunk  down  to  destruction;  and  at  a 
wide  distance  from  this  spot  they  showed  him  where 
the  young  man  must  have  gone  down  in  case  he  was 
suffocated  in  his  room;  and  they  showed  still  a  third 
place,  quite  remote,  where  he  might  possibly  have 
found  his  death  if  perchance  he  tried  to  escape  by 
the  side  exit  toward  the  rear.  The  old  Colonel 
bmshed  away  a  tear,  and  said  to  Hawkins : 

69 


MARK     TWAIN 

"As  it  turns  out,  there  was  something  prophetic 
in  my  fears.  Yes,  it's  a  matter  of  ashes.  Will  you 
kindly  step  to  a  grocery  and  fetch  a  couple  more 
baskets?" 

Reverently  they  got  a  basket  of  ashes  from  each 
of  those  now  hallowed  spots,  and  carried  them 
home  to  consult  as  to  the  best  manner  of  forwarding 
them  to  England,  and  also  to  give  them  an  oppor- 
tunity to  "lie  in  state" — a  mark  of  respect  which 
the  Colonel  deemed  obligatory,  considering  the  high 
rank  of  the  deceased. 

They  set  the  baskets  on  the  table  in  what  was 
formerly  the  library,  drawing-room,  and  work-shop — 
now  the  Hall  of  Audience — and  went  up-stairs  to  the 
lumber-room  to  see  if  they  could  find  a  British  flag 
to  use  as  a  part  of  the  outfit  proper  to  the  lying  in 
state.  A  moment  later  Lady  Rossmore  came  in 
from  the  street  and  caught  sight  of  the  baskets  just 
as  old  Jinny  crossed  her  field  of  vision.  She  quite 
lost  her  patience,  and  said: 

"Well,  what  will  you  do  next?  What  in  the  world 
possessed  you  to  clutter  up  the  parlor  table  with 
these  baskets  of  ashes?" 

"Ashes?"  And  she  came  to  look.  She  put  up  her 
hands  in  pathetic  astonishment.  "Well,  I  never  see 
delike!" 

"Didn't  you  do  it?" 

' '  Who  ?  me  ?  Clah  to  goodness  it's  de  fust  time  I've 
sot  eyes  on  'em,  Miss  Polly.  Dat's  Dan'l.  Dat  ole 
moke  is  losin'  his  mine." 

But  it  wasn't  Dan'l,  for  he  was  called,  and  de- 
nied it. 

70 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"Dey  ain't  no  way  to  'splain  dat.  Wen  hit's  one 
er  dese-yer  common  'currences,  a  body  kin  reckon 
maybe  de  cat — " 

"Oh!"  and  a  shudder  shook  Lady  Rossmore  to 
her  foundations.  "I  see  it  all.  Keep  away  from 
them — they're  his." 

"His,  m'lady?" 

"Yes — your  young  Marse  Sellers  from  England 
that's  burnt  up." 

She  was  alone  with  the  ashes — alone  before  she 
could  take  half  a  breath.  Then  she  went  after 
Mulberry  Sellers,  purposing  to  make  short  work  of 
his  programme,  whatever  it  might  be;  "for,"  said 
she,  "when  his  sentimentals  are  up  he's  a  numskull, 
and  there's  no  knowing  what  extravagance  he'll  con- 
trive if  you  let  him  alone."  She  found  him.  He  had 
found  the  flag  and  was  bringing  it.  When  she  heard 
that  his  idea  was  to  have  the  remains  "lie  in  state, 
and  invite  the  government  and  the  public,"  she 
broke  it  up.  She  said: 

"Your  intentions  are  all  right — they  always  are — 
you  want  to  do  honor  to  the  remains,  and  surely 
nobody  can  find  any  fault  with  that,  for  he  was  your 
kin;  but  you  are  going  the  wrong  way  about  it,  and 
you  will  see  it  yourself  if  you  stop  and  think.  You 
can't  file  around  a  basket  of  ashes  trying  to  look  sorry 
for  it  and  make  a  sight  that  is  really  solemn,  because 
the  solemner  it  is,  the  more  it  isn't — anybody  can 
see  that.  It  would  be  so  with  one  basket;  it  would 
be  three  times  so  with  three.  Well,  it  stands  to 
reason  that  if  it  wouldn't  be  solemn  with  one  mourner, 
it  wouldn't  be  with  a  procession — and  there  would  be 

71 


MARK    TWAIN 

five  thousand  people  here.  I  don't  know  but  it 
would  be  pretty  near  ridiculous;  I  think  it  would. 
No,  Mulberry,  they  can't  lie  in  state — it  would  be 
a  mistake.  Give  that  up  and  think  of  something 
else." 

So  he  gave  it  up;  and  not  reluctantly,  when  he  had 
thought  it  over  and  realized  how  right  her  instinct 
was.  He  concluded  to  merely  sit  up  with  the 
remains — just  himself  and  Hawkins.  Even  this 
seemed  a  doubtful  attention,  to  his  wife,  but  she 
offered  no  objection,  for  it  was  plain  that  he  had  a 
quite  honest  and  simple-hearted  desire  to  do  the 
friendly  and  honorable  thing  by  these  forlorn  poor 
relics  which  could  command  no  hospitality  in  this 
far-off  land  of  strangers  but  his.  He  draped  the 
flag  about  the  baskets,  put  some  crape  on  the  door- 
knob, and  said,  with  satisf action: 

"There — he  is  as  comfortable  now  as  we  can  make 
him  in  the  circumstances.  Except — yes,  we  must 
strain  a  point  there — one  must  do  as  one  would 
wish  to  be  done  by — he  must  have  it." 

"Have  what,  dear?" 

"Hatchment." 

The  wife  felt  that  the  house-front  was  standing 
about  all  it  could  well  stand  in  that  way;  the  prospect 
of  another  stunning  decoration  of  that  nature  dis- 
tressed her,  and  she  wished  the  thing  had  not 
occurred  to  him.  She  said,  hesitatingly: 

"But  I  thought  such  an  honor  as  that  wasn't 
allowed  to  any  but  very,  very  near  relations,  who — " 

"Right,  you  are  quite  right,  my  lady,  perfectly 
right;  but  there  aren't  any  nearer  relatives  than 

72 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

relatives  by  usurpation.  We  cannot  avoid  it ;  we  are 
slaves  of  aristocratic  custom,  and  must  submit." 

The  hatchments  were  unnecessarily  generous,  each 
being  as  large  as  a  blanket,  and  they  were  unneces- 
sarily volcanic,  too,  as  to  variety  and  violence  of 
color,  but  they  pleased  the  earl's  barbaric  eye,  and 
they  satisfied  his  taste  for  symmetry  and  complete- 
ness, too,  for  they  left  no  waste  room  to  speak  of  on 
the  house-front. 

Lady  Rossmore  and  her  daughter  assisted  at  the 
sitting-up  till  near  midnight,  and  helped  the  gentle- 
men to  consider  what  ought  to  be  done  next  with  the 
remains.  Rossmore  thought  they  ought  to  be  sent 
home — with  a  committee  and  resolutions — at  once. 
But  the  wife  was  doubtful.  She  said: 

"Would  you  send  all  of  the  baskets?" 

"Oh,  yes,  all." 

"All  at  once?" 

"To  his  father?  Oh,  no — by  no  means.  Think 
of  the  shock.  No — one  at  a  time;  break  it  to  him 
by  degrees." 

"Would  that  have  that  effect,  father?" 

"Yes,  my  daughter.  Remember,  you  are  young 
and  elastic,  but  he  is  old.  To  send  him  the  whole  at 
once  might  well  be  more  than  he  could  bear.  But 
mitigated — one  basket  at  a  time,  with  restful  inter- 
vals between,  he  would  be  used  to  it  by  the  time  he 
got  all  of  him.  And  sending  him  in  three  ships  is 
safer  anyway.  On  account  of  wrecks  and  storms." 

"I  don't  like  the  idea,  father.  If  I  were  his  father 
it  would  be  dreadful  to  have  him  coming  in  that — 
in  that—" 


MARK    TWAIN 

"On  the  instalment  plan,"  suggested  Hawkins, 
gravely,  and  proud  of  being  able  to  help. 

"Yes — dreadful  to  have  him  coming  in  that  inco- 
herent way.  There  would  be  the  strain  of  suspense 
upon  me  all  the  time.  To  have  so  depressing  a 
thing  as  a  funeral  impending,  delayed,  waiting,  un- 
accomplished— ' ' 

"Oh,  no,  my  child,"  said  the  earl,  reassuringly, 
"there  would  be  nothing  of  that  kind;  so  old  a 
gentleman  could  not  endure  a  long-drawn  suspense 
like  that.  There  will  be  three  funerals." 

Lady  Rossmore  looked  up  surprised,  and  said: 

"How  is  that  going  to  make  it  easier  for  him?  It's 
a  total  mistake,  to  my  mind.  He  ought  to  be  buried 
all  at  once;  I'm  sure  of  it." 

"I  should  think  so,  too,"  said  Hawkins. 

"And  certainly  I  should,"  said  the  daughter. 

' '  You  are  all  wrong, ' '  said  the  earl.  ' '  You  will  see 
it  yourselves  if  you  think.  Only  one  of  these  baskets 
has  got  him  in  it." 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Lady  Rossmore,  "the 
thing  is  perfectly  simple — bury  that  one." 

"Certainly,"  said  Lady  Gwendolen. 

"But  it  is  not  simple,"  said  the  earl,  "because  we 
do  not  know  which  basket  he  is  in.  We  know  he  is 
in  one  of  them,  but  that  is  all  we  do  know.  You  see 
now,  I  reckon,  that  I  was  right;  it  takes  three  fu- 
nerals, there  is  no  other  way." 

"And  three  graves  and  three  monuments  and  three 
inscriptions?"  asked  the  daughter. 

"Well— yes— to  do  it  right.  That  is  what  I 
should  do." 

74 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"It  could  not  be  done  so,  father.  Each  of  the  in- 
scriptions would  give  the  same  name  and  the  same 
facts  and  say  he  was  under  each  and  all  of  these 
monuments,  and  that  would  not  answer  at  all." 

The  earl  nestled  uncomfortably  in  his  chair. 

"No,"  he  said,  "that  is  an  objection.  That  is  a 
serious  objection.  I  see  no  way  out." 

There  was  a  general  silence  for  a  while.  Then 
Hawkins  said: 

"It  seems  to  me  that  if  we  mixed  the  three  rami- 
fications together — " 

The  earl  grasped  him  by  the  hand  and  shook  it 
gratefully. 

"It  solves  the  whole  problem,"  he  said.  "One 
ship,  one  funeral,  one  grave,  one  monument — it  is 
admirably  conceived.  It  does  you  honor,  Major 
Hawkins,  it  has  relieved  me  of  a  most  painful  em- 
barrassment and  distress,  and  it  will  save  that  poor 
stricken  old  father  much  suffering.  Yes,  he  shall  go 
over  in  one  basket." 

"When?"  asked  the  wife. 

"To-morrow — immediately,  of  course." 

"I  would  wait,  Mulberry." 

"Wait?   Why?" 

"  You  don't  want  to  break  that  childless  old  man's 
heart." 

"God  knows  I  don V 

"Then  wait  till  he  sends  for  his  son's  remains.  If 
you  do  that  you  will  never  have  to  give  him  the  last 
and  sharpest  pain  a  parent  can  know — I  mean,  the 
certainty  that  his  son  is  dead.  For  he  will  never 
send." 

75 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Why  won't  he?" 

"Because  to  send — and  find  out  the  truth — would 
rob  him  of  the  one  precious  thing  left  him:  the  uncer- 
tainty, the  dim  hope  that  maybe,  after  all,  his  boy 
escaped,  and  he  will  see  him  again  some  day." 

"Why,  Polly,  he'll  know  by  the  papers  that  he  was 
burnt  up." 

"He  won't  let  himself  believe  the  papers;  he'll 
argue  against  anything  and  everything  that  proves 
his  son  is  dead;  and  he  will  keep  that  up  and  live  on 
it,  and  on  nothing  else  till  he  dies.  But  if  the  remains 
should  actually  come,  and  be  put  before  that  poor  old 
dim-hoping  soul — " 

"Oh,  my  God,  they  never  shall!  Polly,  you've 
saved  me  from  a  crime,  and  I'll  bless  you  for  it 
always.  Now  we  know  what  to  do.  We'll  place 
them  reverently  away,  and  he  shall  never  know." 


CHAPTER  X 

r  I  ^HE  young  Lord  Berkeley,  with  the  fresh  air  of 
1  freedom  in  his  nostrils,  was  feeling  invincibly 
strong  for  his  new  career;  and  yet — and  yet — if  the 
fight  should  prove  a  very  hard  one  at  first,  very  dis- 
couraging, very  taxing  on  untoughened  moral  sinews, 
he  might  in  some  weak  moment  want  to  retreat.  Not 
likely,  of  course,  but  possibly  that  might  happen. 
And  so,  on  the  whole,  it  might  be  pardonable  caution 
to  burn  his  bridges  behind  him.  Oh,  without  doubt. 
He  must  not  stop  with  advertising  for  the  owner  of 
that  money,  but  must  put  it  where  he  could  not 
borrow  from  it  himself,  meantime,  under  stress  of 
circumstances.  So  he  went  down-town  and  put  in  his 
advertisement,  then  went  to  a  bank  and  handed  in 
$500  for  deposit. 

"What  name?" 

He  hesitated  and  colored  a  little ;  he  had  forgotten 
to  make  a  selection.  He  now  brought  out  the  first 
one  that  suggested  itself : 

"Howard  Tracy." 

When  he  was  gone,  the  clerks,  marveling,  said: 

"The  cowboy  blushed." 

The  first  step  was  accomplished.  The  money  was 
still  under  his  command  and  at  his  disposal,  but  the 
next  step  would  dispose  of  that  difficulty.  He  went  to 

27 


MARK    TWAIN 

another  bank  and  drew  upon  the  first  bink  for  the 
$500  by  check.  The  money  was  collected  and  de- 
posited a  second  time  to  the  credit  of  Howard  Tracy. 
He  was  asked  to  leave  a  few  samples  of  his  signature, 
which  he  did.  Then  he  went  away,  once  more  proud 
and  of  perfect  courage,  saying : 

"No  help  for  me  now,  for  henceforth  I  couldn't 
draw  that  money  without  identification,  and  that  is 
become  legally  impossible.  No  resources  to  fall  back 
on.  It  is  work  or  starve  from  now  to  the  end.  I  am 
ready — and  not  afraid!" 

Then  he  sent  this  cablegram  to  his  father: 

Escaped  unhurt  from  burning  hotel.  Have  taken  fictitious 
name.  Good-by. 

During  the  evening,  while  he  was  wandering  about 
in  one  of  the  outlying  districts  of  the  city,  he  came 
across  a  small  brick  church,  with  a  bill  posted  there 
with  these  words  printed  on  it:  "MECHANICS'  CLUB 
DEBATE.  ALL  INVITED."  He  saw  people,  apparently 
mainly  of  the  working  class,  entering  the  place,  and 
he  followed  and  took  his  seat.  It  was  a  humble  lit- 
tle church,  quite  bare  as  to  ornamentation.  It  had 
painted  pews  without  cushions,  and  no  pulpit,  prop- 
erly speaking,  but  it  had  a  platform.  On  the  plat- 
form sat  the  chairman,  and  by  his  side  sat  a  man  "who 
held  a  manuscript  in  his  hand  and  had  the  waiting 
look  of  one  who  is  going  to  perform  the  principal 
part.  The  church  was  soon  filled  with  a  quiet  and 
orderly  congregation  of  decently  dressed  and  modest 
people.  This  is  what  the  chairman  said: 

' '  The  essayist  for  this  evening  is  an  old  member  of 
73 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

our  club  whom  you  all  know,  Mr.  Parker,  assistant 
editor  of  the  Daily  Democrat.  The  subject  of  his 
essay  is  the  American  Press,  and  he  will  use  as  his 
text  a  couple  of  paragraphs  taken  from  Mr.  Matthew 
Arnold's  new  book.  He  asks  me  to  read  these  texts 
for  him.  The  first  is  as  follows: 

"'Goethe  says  somewhere  that  "  the  thrill  of  awe,"  that  is  to 
say,  REVERENCE,  is  the  best  thing  humanity  has.' 

"Mr.  Arnold's  other  paragraph  is  as  follows: 

" '  I  should  say  that  if  one  were  searching  for  the  best  means 
to  efface  and  kill  in  a  whole  nation  the  discipline  of  respect,  one 
could  not  do  better  than  take  the  American  newspapers.'  " 

Mr.  Parker  rose  and  bowed,  and  was  received  with 
warm  applause.  He  then  began  to  read  in  a  good, 
round,  resonant  voice,  with  clear  enunciation  and 
careful  attention  to  his  pauses  and  emphases.  His 
points  were  received  with  approval  as  he  went  on. 

The  essayist  took  the  position  that  the  most  im- 
portant function  of  a  public  journal  in  any  country 
was  the  propagating  of  national  feeling  and  pride 
in  the  national  name — the  keeping  the  people  "in 
love  with  their  country  and  its  institutions,  and 
shielded  from  the  allurements  of  alien  and  inimical 
systems."  He  sketched  the  manner  in  which  the 
reverent  Turkish  or  Russian  journalist  fulfilled  this 
function — the  one  assisted  by  the  prevalent  "dis- 
cipline of  respect"  for  the  bastinado,  the  other  for 
Siberia.  Continuing,  he  said: 

The  chief  function  of  an  English  journal  is  that  of  all  other 
journals  the  world  over:  it  must  keep  the  public  eye  fixed  ad- 
6  79 


MARK    TWAIN 

miringly  upon  certain  things,  and  keep  it  diligently  diverted 
from  certain  others.  For  instance,  it  must  keep  the  public  eye 
fixed  admiringly  upon  the  glories  of  England,  a  processional 
splendor  stretching  its  receding  line  down  the  hazy  vistas  of 
time,  with  the  mellowed  lights  of  a  thousand  years  glinting  from 
its  banners;  and  it  must  keep  it  diligently  diverted  from  the  fact 
that  all  these  glories  were  for  the  enrichment  and  aggrandizement 
of  the  petted  and  privileged  few,  at  cost  of  the  blood  and  sweat 
and  poverty  of  the  unconsidered  masses  who  achieved  them,  but 
might  not  enter  in  and  partake  of  them.  It  must  keep  the 
public  eye  fixed  in  loving  and  awful  reverence  upon  the  throne 
as  a  sacred  thing,  and  diligently  divert  it  from  the  fact  that 
no  throne  was  ever  set  up  by  the  unhampered  vote  of  a  ma- 
jority of  any  nation;  and  that  hence  no  throne  exists  that  has  a 
right  to  exist,  and  no  symbol  of  it,  flying  from  any  flagstaff,  is 
righteously  entitled  to  wear  any  device  but  the  skull  and  cross- 
bones  of  that  kindred  industry  which  differs  from  royalty  only 
business-wise — merely  as  retail  differs  from  wholesale.  It  must 
keep  the  citizen's  eye  fixed  in  reverent  docility  upon  that  curious 
invention  of  machine  politics,  an  Established  Church,  and  upon 
that  bald  contradiction  of  common  justice,  a  hereditary  nobility; 
and  diligently  divert  it  from  the  fact  that  the  one  damns  him  if 
he  doesn't  wear  its  collar,  and  robs  him  under  the  gentle  name 
of  taxation  whether  he  wears  it  or  not,  and  the  other  gets  all 
the  honors  while  he  does  all  the  work. 

The  essayist  thought  that  Mr.  Arnold,  with  his 
trained  eye  and  intelligent  observation,  ought  to 
have  perceived  that  the  very  quality  which  he  so 
regretfully  missed  from  our  press — respectfulness, 
reverence — was  exactly  the  thing  which  would  make 
our  press  useless  to  us  if  it  had  it — rob  it  of  the  very 
thing  which  differentiates  it  from  all  other  journalism 
in  the  world  and  makes  it  distinctively  and  preciously 
American,  its  frank  and  cheerful  irreverence  being  by 
all  odds  the  most  valuable  of  all  its  qualities.  "For 
its  mission — overlooked  by  Mr.  Arnold — is  to  stand 
guard  over  a  nation's  liberties,  not  its  humbugs  and 

80 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

shams."  He  thought  that  if  during  fifty  years  the 
institutions  of  the  old  world  could  be  exposed  to  the 
fire  of  a  flouting  and  scoffing  press  like  ours,  "mon- 
archy and  its  attendant  crimes  would  disappear  from 
Christendom."  Monarchists  might  doubt  this;  then 
"why  not  persuade  the  Czar  to  give  it  a  trial  in 
Russia?"  Concluding,  he  said: 

Well,  the  charge  is,  that  our  press  has  but  little  of  that  old- 
world  quality,  reverence.  Let  us  be  candidly  grateful  that  it 
is  so.  With  its  limited  reverence  it  at  least  reveres  the  things 
which  this  nation  reveres,  as  a  rule,  and  that  is  sufficient;  what 
other  people  revere  is  fairly  and  properly  matter  of  light  im- 
portance to  us.  Our  press  does  not  reverence  kings,  it  does  not 
reverence  so-called  nobilities;  it  does  not  reverence  established 
ecclesiastical  slaveries,  it  does  not  reverence  laws  which  rob  a 
younger  son  to  fatten  an  elder  one,  it  does  not  reverence  any 
fraud  or  sham  or  infamy,  howsoever  old  or  rotten  or  holy,  which 
sets  one  citizen  above  his  neighbor  by  accident  of  birth;  it  does 
not  reverence  any  law  or  custom,  howsoever  old  or  decayed  or 
sacred,  which  shuts  against  the  best  man  in  the  land  the  best 
place  in  the  land  and  the  divine  right  to  prove  property  and 
go  up  and  occupy  it.  In  the  sense  of  the  poet  Goethe — that 
meek  idolater  of  provincial  three-carat  royalty  and  nobility — 
our  press  is  certainly  bankrupt  in  the  "thrill  of  awe" — otherwise 
reverence;  reverence  for  nickel  plate  and  brummagem.  Let  us 
sincerely  hope  that  this  fact  will  remain  a  fact  forever;  for  to 
my  mind  a  discriminating  irreverence  is  the  creator  and  pro- 
tector of  human  liberty — even  as  the  other  thing  is  the  creator, 
nurse,  and  steadfast  protector  of  all  forms  of  human  slavery, 
bodily  and  mental. 

.  Tracy  said  to  himself,  almost  shouted  to  himself, 
"I'm  glad  I  came  to  this  country.  I  was  right.  I 
was  right  to  seek  out  a  land  where  such  healthy  prin- 
ciples and  theories  are  in  men's  hearts  and  minds. 
Think  of  the  innumerable  slaveries  imposed  by  mis- 
placed reverence!  How  well  he  brought  that  out, 

81 


MARK    TWAIN 

and  how  true  it  is.  There's  manifestly  prodigious 
force  in  reverence.  If  you  can  get  a  man  to  reverence 
your  ideals,  he's  your  slave.  Oh,  yes;  in  all  the  ages 
the  peoples  of  Europe  have  been  diligently  taught  to 
avoid  reasoning  about  the  shams  of  monarchy  and 
nobility,  been  taught  to  avoid  examining  them,  been 
taught  to  reverence  them;  and  now,  as  a  natural 
result,  to  reverence  them  is  a  second  nature.  In 
order  to  shock  them  it  is  sufficient  to  inject  a  thought 
of  the  opposite  kind  into  their  dull  minds.  For  ages, 
any  expression  of  so-called  irreverence  from  their 
lips  has  been  sin  and  crime.  The  sham  and  swindle 
of  all  this  is  apparent  the  moment  one  reflects  that 
he  is  himself  the  only  legitimately  qualified  judge  of 
what  is  entitled  to  reverence  and  what  is  not.  Come, 
I  hadn't  thought  of  that  before,  but  it  is  true,  abso- 
lutely true.  What  right  has  Goethe,  what  right  has 
Arnold,  what  right  has  any  dictionary,  to  define  the 
word  Irreverence  for  me?  What  their  ideals  are  is 
nothing  to  me.  So  long  as  I  reverence  my  own  ideals 
my  whole  duty  is  done,  and  I  commit  no  profanation 
if  I  laugh  at  theirs.  I  may  scoff  at  other  people's 
ideals  as  much  as  I  want  to.  It  is  my  right  and  my 
privilege.  No  man  has  any  right  to  deny  it." 

Tracy  was  expecting  to  hear  the  essay  debated,  but 
this  did  not  happen.  The  chairman  said,  by  way 
of  explanation : 

"I  would  say,  for  the  information  of  the  strangers 
present  here,  that  in  accordance  with  our  custom  the 
subject  of  this  meeting  will  be  debated  at  the  next 
meeting  of  the  club.  This  is  in  order  to  enable  our 
members  to  prepare  what  they  may  wish  to  say 

82 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

upon  the  subject  with  pen  and  paper,  for  we  are 
mainly  mechanics  and  unaccustomed  to  speaking. 
We  are  obliged  to  write  down  what  we  desire  to  say." 
Many  brief  papers  were  now  read,  and  several 
offhand  speeches  made  in  discussion  of  the  essay 
read  at  the  last  meeting  of  the  club,  which  had  been 
a  laudation,  by  some  visiting  professor,  of  college 
culture,  and  the  grand  results  flowing  from  it  to  the 
nation.  One  of  the  papers  was  read  by  a  man. 
approaching  middle  age,  who  said  he  hadn't  had  a 
college  education,  that  he  had  got  his  education  in  a 
printing-office,  and  had  graduated  from  there  into 
the  patent-office,  where  he  had  been  a  clerk  now 
for  a  great  many  years.  Then  he  continued  to  this 
effect: 

The  essayist  contrasted  the  America  of  to-day  with  the 
America  of  bygone  times,  and  certainly  the  result  is  the  exhibi- 
tion of  a  mighty  progress.  But  I  think  he  a  little  overrated  the 
college-culture  share  in  the  production  of  that  result.  It  can  no 
doubt  be  easily  shown  that  the  colleges  have  contributed  the 
intellectual  part  of  this  progress,  and  that  that  part  is  vast;  but 
that  the  material  progress  has  been  immeasurably  vaster  I 
think  you  will  concede.  Now  I  have  been  looking  over  a  list  of 
inventors — the  creators  of  this  amazing  material  development 
— and  I  find  that  they  were  not  college-bred  men.  Of  course 
there  are  exceptions — -like  Professor  Henry  of  Princeton,  the 
inventor  of  Mr.  Morse's  system  of  telegraphy — but  these  excep- 
tions are  few.  It  is  not  overstatement  to  say  that  the  imagina- 
tion-stunning material  development  of  this  century,  the  only 
century  worth  living  in  since  time  itself  was  invented,  is  the 
creation  of  men  not  college-bred.  We  think  we  see  what  these 
inventors  have  done;  no,  we  see  only  the  visible  vast  frontage  of 
their  work;  behind  it  is  their  far  vaster  work,  and  it  is  invisible 
to  the  careless  glance.  They  have  reconstructed  this  nation 
— made  it  over,  that  is — and,  metaphorically  speaking,  have 
multiplied  its  numbers  almost  beyond  the  power  of  figures  to 

83 


MARK     TWAIN 

express.  I  will  explain  what  I  mean.  What  constitutes  the 
population  of  a  land?  Merely  the  numberable  packages  of  meat 
and  bones  in  it  called  by  courtesy  men  and  women?  Shall  a 
million  ounces  of  brass  and  a  million  ounces  of  gold  be  held  to 
be  of  the  same  value?  Take  a  truer  standard:  the  measure  of  a 
man's  contributing  capacity  to  his  time  and  his  people — the  work 
he  can  do — and  then  number  the  population  of  this  country 
to-day,  as  multiplied  by  what  a  man  can  now  do  more  than  his 
grandfather  could  do.  By  this  standard  of  measurement,  this 
nation,  two  or  three  generations  ago,  consisted  of  mere  cripples, 
paralytics,  dead  men,  as  compared  with  the  men  of  to-day.  In 
1840  our  population  was  17,000,000.  By  the  way  of  rude  but 
striking  illustration,  let  us  consider,  for  argument's  sake,  that 
four  of  these  millions  consisted  of  aged  people,  little  children, 
and  other  incapables,  and  that  the  remaining  13,000,000  were 
divided  and  employed  as  follows: 

2,000,000  as  ginners  of  cotton. 

6,000,000  (women)  as  stocking-knitters. 

2,000,000  (women)  as  thread-spinners. 

500,000  as  screw-makers. 

400,000  as  reapers,  binders,  etc. 

1,000,000  as  corn-shellers. 

40,000  as  weavers. 

1,000  as  stitchers  of  shoe  soles. 

Now  the  deductions  which  I  am  going  to  append  to  these 
figures  may  sound  extravagant,  but  they  are  not.  I  take  them 
from  Miscellaneous  Documents  No.  50,  second  session  45th 
Congress,  and  they  are  official  and  trustworthy.  To-day  the 
work  of  those  2,000,000  cotton-ginners  is  done  by  2,000  men; 
that  of  the  6,000,000  stocking-knitters  is  done  by  3,000  boys; 
that  of  the  2,000,000  thread-spinners  is  done  by  1,000  girls;  that 
of  the  500,000  screw-makers  is  done  by  500  girls;  that  of  the 
400,000  reapers,  binders,  etc.,  is  done  by  4,000  boys;  that  of  the 
1,000,000  corn-shellers  is  done  by  7,500  men;  that  of  the  40,000 
weavers  is  done  by  1,200  men;  and  that  of  the  1,000  stitchers  of 
shoe  soles  is  done  by  6  men.  To  bunch  the  figures,  17,000 
persons  to-day  do  the  above  work,  whereas  fifty  years  ago  it 
would  have  taken  thirteen  millions  of  persons  to  do  it.  Now 
then,  how  many  of  that  ignorant  race — our  fathers  and  grand- 
fathers— with  their  ignorant  methods,  would  it  take  to  do  our 
work  to-day?  It  would  take  forty  thousand  millions — a  hundred 

84 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

times  the  swarming  population  of  China — twenty  times  the 
present  population  of  the  globe.  You  look  around  you  and  you 
see  a  nation  of  sixty  millions — apparently;  but  secreted  in  their 
hands  and  brains,  and  invisible  to  your  eyes,  is  the  true  popu- 
lation of  this  Republic,  and  it  numbers  forty  billions!  It  is  the 
stupendous  creation  of  those  humble,  unlettered,  un-college-bred 
inventors — all  honor  to  their  name. 

"How  grand  that  is!"  said  Tracy,  as  he  wended 
homeward.  ' '  What  a  civilization  it  is,  and  what  pro- 
digious results  these  are!  and  brought  about  almost 
wholly  by  common  men;  not  by  Oxford-trained 
aristocrats,  but  men  who  stand  shoulder  to  shoulder 
in  the  humble  ranks  of  life  and  earn  the  bread  that 
they  eat.  Again  I'm  glad  I  came.  I  have  found  a 
country  at  last  where  one  may  start  fair,  and,  breast 
to  breast  with  his  fellow-man,  rise  by  his  own  efforts, 
and  be  something  in  the  world  and  be  proud  of  that 
something;  not  be  something  created  by  an  ancestor 
three  hundred  years  ago." 


CHAPTER  XI 

DURING  the  first  few  days  he  kept  the  fact 
diligently  before  his  mind  that  he  was  in  a  land 
where  there  was  "work  and  bread  for  all."  In  fact, 
for  convenience'  sake  he  fitted  it  to  a  little  tune  and 
hummed  it  to  himself;  but  as  time  wore  on  the  fact 
itself  began  to  take  on  a  doubtful  look,  and  next 
the  tune  got  fatigued  and  presently  ran  down  and 
stopped.  His  first  effort  was  to  get  an  upper  clerk- 
ship in  one  of  the  departments,  where  his  Oxford 
education  could  come  into  play  and  do  him  service. 
But  he  stood  no  chance  whatever.  There  compe- 
tency was  no  recommendation;  political  backing, 
without  competency,  was  worth  six  of  it.  He  was 
glaringly  English,  and  that  was  necessarily  against 
him  in  the  political  center  of  a  nation  where  both 
parties  prayed  for  the  Irish  cause  on  the  house-top 
and  blasphemed  it  in  the  cellar.  By  his  dress  he  was 
a  cowboy;  that  won  him  respect — when  his  back  was 
not  turned — but  it  couldn't  get  a  clerkship  for  him. 
But  he  had  said,  in  a  rash  moment,  that  he  would 
wear  those  clothes  till  the  owner  or  the  owner's 
friends  caught  sight  of  them  and  asked  for  that 
money,  and  his  conscience  would  not  let  him  retire 
from  that  engagement  now. 
At  the  end  of  a  week  things  were  beginning  to 

86 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

wear  rather  a  startling  look.  He  had  hunted  every- 
where for  work,  descending  gradually  the  scale  of 
quality,  until  apparently  he  had  sued  for  all  the 
various  kinds  of  work  a  man  without  a  special  calling 
might  hope  to  be  able  to  do,  except  ditching  and  the 
other  coarse  manual  sorts — and  had  got  neither  work 
nor  the  promise  of  it. 

He  was  mechanically  turning  over  the  leaves  of  his 
diary  meanwhile,  and  now  his  eye  fell  upon  the  first 
record  made  after  he  was  burnt  out: 

I  myself  did  not  doubt  my  stamina  before;  nobody  could 
doubt  it  now,  if  they  could  see  how  I  am  housed,  and  realize  that 
I  feel  absolutely  no  disgust  with  these  quarters,  but  am  as 
serenely  content  with  them  as  any  dog  would  be  in  a  similar 
kennel.  Terms,  twenty-five  dollars  a  week.  I  said  I  would 
start  at  the  bottom.  I  have  kept  my  word. 

A  shudder  went  quaking  through  him,  and  he  ex- 
claimed: 

* '  What  have  I  been  thinking  of !  This  the  bottom ! 
Mooning  along  a  whole  week,  and  these  terrific  ex- 
penses climbing  and  climbing  all  the  time!  I  must 
end  this  folly  straightway." 

He  settled  up  at  once  and  went  forth  to  find  less 
sumptuous  lodgings.  He  had  to  wander  far  and 
seek  with  diligence,  but  he  succeeded.  They  made 
him  pay  in  advance — four  dollars  and  a  half;  this 
secured  both  bed  and  food  for  a  week.  The  good- 
natured,  hard-worked  landlady  took  him  up  three 
flights  of  narrow,  uncarpeted  stairs  and  delivered 
him  into  his  room.  There  were  two  double  bed- 
steads in  it  and  one  single  one.  He  would  be  allowed 
to  sleep  alone  in  pne  of  the  double  beds  until  some. 


MARK    TWAIN 

new  boarder  should  come,  but  he  wouldn't  be  charged 
extra. 

So  he  would  presently  be  required  to  sleep  with 
some  stranger!  The  thought  of  it  made  him  sick. 
Mrs.  Marsh,  the  landlady,  was  very  friendly,  and 
hoped  he  would  like  her  house — they  all  liked  it, 
she  said. 

"And  they're  a  very  nice  set  of  boys.  They  carry 
on  a  good  deal,  but  that's  their  fun.  You  see,  this 
room  opens  right  into  this  back  one,  and  sometimes 
they're  all  in  one  and  sometimes  in  the  other;  and 
hot  nights  they  all  sleep  on  the  roof  when  it  don't 
rain.  They  get  out  there  the  minute  it's  hot  enough. 
The  season's  so  early  that  they've  already  had  a 
night  or  two  up  there.  If  you'd  like  to  go  up  and 
pick  out  a  place,  you  can.  You'll  find  chalk  in  the 
side  of  the  chimney  where  there's  a  brick  wanting. 
You  just  take  the  chalk  and — but,  of  course,  you've 
done  it  before." 

"Oh,  no,  I  haven't." 

"Why,  of  course,  you  haven't — what  am  I  think- 
ing of?  Plenty  of  room  on  the  Plains  without 
chalking,  I'll  be  bound.  Well,  you  just  chalk  out  a 
place  the  size  of  a  blanket  anywhere  on  the  tin  that 
ain't  already  marked  off,  you  know,  and  that's  your 
property.  You  and  your  bed-mate  take  turn-about 
carrying  up  the  blanket  and  pillows  and  fetching 
them  down  again;  or  one  carries  them  up  and  the 
other  fetches  them  down;  you  fix  it  the  way  you  like, 
you  know.  You'll  like  the  boys;  they're  everlasting 
sociable — except  the  printer.  He's  the  one  that 
sleeps  in  that  single  bed — the  strangest  creature; 

88 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

why,  I  don't  believe  you  could  get  that  man  to  sleep 
with  another  man,  not  if  the  house  was  afire.  Mind 
you,  I'm  not  just  talking,  I  know.  The  boys  tried 
him  to  see.  They  took  his  bed  out  one  night,  and 
so  when  he  got  home  about  three  in  the  morning — 
he  was  on  a  morning  paper  then,  but  he's  on  an  eve- 
ning one  now — there  wasn't  any  place  for  him  but 
with  the  iron-molder;  and  if  you'll  believe  me,  he 
just  set  up  the  rest  of  the  night — he  did,  honest. 
They  say  he's  cracked,  but  it  ain't  so,  he's  English — 
they're  awful  particular.  You  won't  mind  my  saying 
that.  You — you're  English?" 

"Yes." 

"I  thought  so.  I  could  tell  it  by  the  way  you 
mispronounce  the  words  that's  got  a's  in  them,  you 
know;  such  as  saying  loff  when  you  mean  laff — but 
you'll  get  over  that.  He's  a  right  down  good  fellow, 
and  a  little  sociable  with  the  photographer's  boy  and 
the  caulker  and  the  blacksmith  that  work  in  the  navy- 
yard,  but  not  so  much  with  the  others.  The  fact 
is,  though  it's  private,  and  the  others  don't  know  it, 
he's  a  kind  of  an  aristocrat,  his  father  being  a  doctor, 
and  you  know  what  style  that  is — in  England,  I  mean, 
because  in  this  country  a  doctor  ain't  so  very  much, 
even  if  he's  that.  But  over  there,  of  course,  it's 
different.  So  this  chap  had  a  falling  out  with  his 
father,  and  was  pretty  high  strung,  and  just  cut  for 
this  country,  and  the  first  he  knew  he  had  to  get 
to  work  or  starve.  Well,  he'd  been  to  college,  you 
see,  and  so  he  judged  he  was  all  right — did  you  say 
anything?" 

"No— I  only  sighed." 

89 


MARK    TWAIN 

"And  there's  where  he  was  mistaken.  Why,  he 
mighty  near  starved.  And  I  reckon  he  would  have 
starved  sure  enough  if  some  jour'  printer  or  other 
hadn't  took  pity  on  him  and  got  him  a  place  as 
apprentice.  So  he  learned  the  trade,  and  then  he 
was  all  right — but  it  was  a  close  call.  Once  he 
thought  he  had  got  to  haul  in  his  pride  and  holler  for 
his  father,  and — -why,  you're  sighing  again.  Is  any- 
thing the  matter  with  you? — does  my  clatter — " 
"Oh,  dear-no.  Pray  go  on — I  like  it." 
"Yes,  you  see,  he's  been  over  here  ten  years;  he's 
twenty-eight  now,  and  he  ain't  pretty  well  satisfied 
in  his  mind,  because  he  can't  get  reconciled  to  being 
a  mechanic  and  associating  with  mechanics,  he  being, 
as  he  says  to  me,  a  gentleman,  which  is  a  pretty  plain 
letting-on  that  the  boys  ain't,  but  of  course  I  know 
enough  not  to  let  that  cat  out  of  the  bag." 
"Why — would  there  be  any  harm  in  it?" 
"Harm  in  it?  They'd  lick  him,  wouldn't  they? 
Wouldn't  you?  Of  course  you  would.  Don't  you 
ever  let  a  man  say  you  ain't  a  gentleman  in  this 
country.  But  laws,  what  am  I  thinking  about?  I 
reckon  a  body  would  think  twice  before  he  said  a 
cowboy  wasn't  a  gentleman." 

A  trim,  active,  slender,  and  very  pretty  girl  of 
about  eighteen  walked  into  the  room  now,  in  the 
most  satisfied  and  unembarrassed  way.  She  was 
cheaply  but  smartly  and  gracefully  dressed,  and  the 
mother's  quick  glance  at  the  stranger's  face  as  he 
rose  was  of  the  kind  which  inquires  what  effect  has 
been  produced,  and  expects  to  find  indications  of 
surprise  and  admiration. 

90 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"This  is  my  daughter  Hattie — we  call  her  Puss. 
It's  the  new  boarder,  Puss."  This  without  rising. 

The  young  Englishman  made  the  awkward  bow 
common  to  his  nationality  and  time  of  life  in  circum- 
stances of  delicacy  and  difficulty,  and  these  were  of 
that  sort;  for,  being  taken  by  surprise,  his  natural, 
lifelong  self  sprang  to  the  front,  and  that  self,  of 
course,  would  not  know  just  how  to  act  when  intro- 
duced to  a  chambermaid,  or  to  the  heiress  of  a  me- 
chanics' boarding-house.  His  other  self  —  the  self 
which  recognized  the  equality  of  all  men — would 
have  managed  the  thing  better  if  it  hadn't  been 
caught  off  guard  and  robbed  of  its  chance.  The 
young  girl  paid  no  attention  to  the  bow,  but  put 
out  her  hand  frankly  and  gave  the  stranger  a  friendly 
shake,  and  said: 

"How  do  you  do?'* 

Then  she  marched  to  the  one  washstand  in  the 
room,  tilted  her  head  this  way  and  that  before  the 
wreck  of  a  cheap  mirror  that  hung  above  it,  damp- 
ened her  fingers  with  her  tongue,  perfected  the  circle 
of  a  little  lock  of  hair  that  was  pasted  against 
her  forehead,  then  began  to  busy  herself  with  the 
slops. 

1  'Well,  I  must  be  going — it's  getting  toward  supper- 
time.  Make  yourself  at  home,  Mr.  Tracy;  you'll 
hear  the  bell  when  it's  ready." 

The  landlady  took  her  tranquil  departure  without 
commanding  either  of  the  young  people  to  vacate  the 
room.  The  young  man  wondered  a  little  that  a 
mother  who  seemed  so  honest  and  respectable  should 
be  so  thoughtless,  and  was  reaching  for  his  hat,  in- 

9* 


MARK     TWAIN 

tending  to  disembarrass  the  girl  of  his  presence;  but 
she  said : 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"Well — nowhere  in  particular,  but  as  I  am  only  in 
the  way  here — " 

"Why,  who  said  you  were  in  the  way?  Sit  down- 
Ill  move  you  when  you  are  in  the  way." 

She  was  making  the  beds  now.  He  sat  down  and 
watched  her  deft  and  diligent  performance. 

"What  gave  you  that  notion?  Do  you  reckon  I 
need  a  whole  room  just  to  make  up  a  bed  or  two  in  ?" 

"Well,  no,  it  wasn't  that,  exactly.  We  are  away 
up  here  in  an  empty  house,  and  your  mother  being 
gone — " 

The  girl  interrupted  him  with  an  amused  laugh, 
and  said : 

"Nobody  to  protect  me?  Bless  you,  I  don't  need 
it.  I'm  not  afraid.  I  might  be  if  I  was  alone,  because 
I  do  hate  ghosts,  and  I  don't  deny  it.  Not  that  I 
believe  in  them,  for  I  don't.  I'm  only  just  afraid  of 
them." 

"How  can  you  be  afraid  of  them  if  you  don't 
believe  in  them?" 

*Oh,  /  don't  know  the  how  of  it — that's  too  many 
for  me;  I  only  know  it's  so.  It's  the  same  with  Mag- 
gie Lee." 

"Who  is  that?" 

"One  of  the  boarders;  young  lady  that  works  in 
the  fact'ry." 

"She  works  in  a  factory?" 

"Yes.    Shoe  fact'ry."  " 

"In  a  shoe  factory;  and  you  call  her  a  young  lady?" 

92 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"Why,  she's  only  twenty- two;  what  should  you 
call  her?" 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  her  age;  I  was  thinking  of 
the  title.  The  fact  is,  I  came  away  from  England  to 
get  away  from  artificial  forms — for  artificial  forms 
suit  artificial  people  only — and  here  you've  got  them, 
too.  I'm  sorry.  I  hoped  you  had  only  men  and 
women;  everybody  equal;  no  differences  in  rank." 

The  girl  stopped  with  a  pillow  in  her  teeth  and  the 
case  spread  open  below  it,  contemplating  him  from 
under  her  brows  with  a  slightly  puzzled  expression. 
She  released  the  pillow,  and  said: 

"Why,  they  are  all  equal.  Where's  any  difference 
in  rank?" 

"If  you  call  a  factory  girl  a  young  lady,  what  do 
you  call  the  President's  wife?" 

"Call  her  an  old  one." 

"Oh,  you  make  age  the  only  distinction?" 

"There  ain't  any  other  to  make  as  far  as  I  can  see." 

"Then  all  women  are  ladies?" 

"Certainly  they  are.    All  the  respectable  ones." 

"Well,  that  puts  a  better  face  on  it.  Certainly 
there  is  no  harm  in  a  title  when  it  is  given  to  every- 
body. It  is  only  an  offense  and  a  wrong  when  it  is 
restricted  to  a  favored  few.  But,  Miss — er — " 

"Hattie." 

"Miss  Hattie,  be  frank;  confess  that  that  title 
isn't  accorded  by  everybody  to  everybody.  The  rich 
American  doesn't  call  her  cook  a  lady — isn't  that 
so?" 

"Yes,  it's  so.    What  of  it?" 

He  was  surprised  and  a  little  disappointed  to  see 

93 


MARK    TWAIN 

that  his  admirable  shot  had  produced  no  perceptible 
effect. 

"What  of  it?"  he  said.  "Why,  this:  equality  is 
not  conceded  here,  after  all,  and  the  Americans  are 
no  better  off  than  the  English.  In  fact,  there's  no 
difference." 

"Now  what  an  idea.  There's  nothing  in  a  title 
except  what  is  put  into  it — you've  said  that  yourself. 
Suppose  the  title  is  clean,  instead  of  lady.  You  get 
that?" 

"I  believe  so.  Instead  of  speaking  of  a  woman  as 
a  lady,  you  substitute  clean  and  say  she's  a  clean 
person." 

' '  That's  it.  In  England  the  swell  folks  don't  speak 
of  the  working  people  as  gentlemen  and  ladies?" 

"Oh,  no." 

"And  the  working  people  don't  call  themselves 
gentlemen  and  ladies?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"So  if  you  used  the  other  word  there  wouldn't  be 
any  change.  The  swell  people  wouldn't  call  anybody 
but  themselves  'clean,'  and  those  others  would  drop 
sort  of  meekly  into  their  way  of  talking  and  they 
wouldn't  call  themselves  clean.  We  don't  do  that 
way  here.  Everybody  calls  himself  a  lady  or  gentle- 
man, and  thinks  he  is,  and  don't  care  what  anybody 
else  thinks  him,  so  long  as  he  don't  say  it  out  loud. 
You  think  there's  no  difference.  You  knuckle  down 
and  we  don't.  Ain't  that  a  difference?" 

"It  is  a  difference  I  hadn't  thought  of;  I  admit 
that.  Still — calling  one's  self  a  lady  doesn't — er — " 

"I  wouldn't  go  on  if  I  were  you." 
94 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

Howard  Tracy  turned  his  head  to  see  who  it  might 
be  that  had  introduced  this  remark.  It  was  a  short 
man  about  forty  years  old,  with  sandy  hair,  no 
beard,  and  a  pleasant  face  badly  freckled  but  alive 
and  intelligent,  and  he  wore  slop-shop  clothing  which 
was  neat  but  showed  wear.  He  had  come  from  the 
front  room  beyond  the  hall,  where  he  had  left  his 
hat,  and  he  had  a  chipped  and  cracked  white  wash- 
bowl in  his  hand.  The  girl  came  and  took  the  bowl. 

"I'll  get  it  for  you.  You  go  right  ahead  and  give 
it  to  him,  Mr.  Barrow.  He's  the  new  boarder — Mr- 
Tracy — and  I'd  just  got  to  where  it  was  getting  too 
deep  for  me." 

"Much  obliged  if  you  will,  Hattie.  I  was  coming 
to  borrow  of  the  boys."  He  sat  down  at  his  ease  on 
an  old  trunk,  and  said,  "I've  been  listening  and  got 
interested;  and  as  I  was  saying,  I  wouldn't  go  on  if  I 
were  you.  You  see  where  you  are  coming  to,  don't 
you?  Calling  yourself  a  lady  doesn't  elect  you;  that 
is  what  you  were  going  to  say;  and  you  saw  that  if 
you  said  it  you  were  going  to  run  right  up  against 
another  difference  that  you  hadn't  thought  of:  to  wit, 
Whose  right  is  it  to  do  the  electing?  Over  there, 
twenty  thousand  people  in  a  million  elect  themselves 
gentlemen  and  ladies,  and  the  nine  hundred  and 
eighty  thousand  accept  that  decree  and  swallow  the 
affront  which  it  puts  upon  them.  Why,  if  they  didn't 
accept  it  it  wouldn't  lie  an  election;  it  would  be  a 
dead  letter,  and  have  no  force  at  all.  Over  here  the  \ 
twenty  thousand  would-be  exclusives  come  up  to  the 
polls  and  vote  themselves  to  be  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
But  the  thing  doesn't  stop  there.  The  nine  hundred 
7  95 


MARK    TWAIN 

and  eighty  thousand  come  and  vote  themselves  to  be 
ladies  and  gentlemen  too,  and  that  elects  the  whole 
nation.  Since  the  whole  million  vote  themselves 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  there  is  no  question  about  that 
election.  It  does  make  absolute  equality,  and  there 
is  no  fiction  about  it;  while  over  yonder  the  in- 
equality (by  decree  of  the  infinitely  feeble,  and  con- 
sent of  the  infinitely  strong)  is  also  absolute — as  real 
and  absolute  as  our  equality." 

Tracy  had  shrunk  promptly  into  his  English  shell 
when  this  speech  began,  notwithstanding  he  had  now 
been  in  severe  training  several  weeks  for  contact  and 
intercourse  with  the  common  herd  on  the  common 
herd's  terms;  but  he  lost  no  time  in  pulling  himself 
out  again,  and  so  by  the  time  the  speech  was  finished 
his  valves  were  open  once  more,  and  he  was  forcing 
himself  to  accept  without  resentment  the  common 
herd's  frank  fashion  of  dropping  sociably  into  other 
people's  conversations  unembarrassed  and  uninvited. 
The  process  was  not  very  difficult  this  time,  for  the 
man's  smile  and  voice  and  manner  were  persuasive 
and  winning.  Tracy  would  even  have  liked  him  on 
the  spot  but  for  the  fact — fact  which  he  was  not 
really  aware  of — that  the  equality  of  men  was  not 
yet  a  reality  to  him;  it  was  only  a  theory;  the  mind 
perceived,  but  the  man  failed  to  feel  it.  It  was 
Hattie's  ghost  over  again,  merely  turned  around. 
Theoretically  Barrow  was  his  equal,  but  it  was  dis- 
tinctly distasteful  to  see  him  exhibit  it.  He  presently 
said: 

' '  I  hope  in  all  sincerity  that  what  you  have  said  is 
true  as  regards  the  Americans,  for  doubts  have  crept 

96 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT      , 

into  my  mind  several  times.  It  seemed  that  the, 
equality  must  be  ungenuine  where  the  sign-names  of 
castes  were  still  in  vogue;  but  those  sign-names  have 
certainly  lost  their  offense  and  are  wholly  neutralized, 
nullified,  and  harmless  if  they  are  the  undisputed 
property  of  every  individual  in  the  nation.  I  think 
I  realize  that  caste  does  not  exist  and  cannot  exist 
except  by  common  consent  of  the  masses  outside  of 
its  limits.  I  thought  caste  created  itself  and  per-| 
petuated  itself;  but  it  seems  quite  true  that  it  only 
creates  itself,  and  is  perpetuated  by  the  people  whom 
it  despises,  and  who  can  dissolve  it  at  any  time  by 
assuming  its  mere  sign-names  themselves." 

"It's  what  I  think.  There  isn't  any  power  on 
earth  that  can  prevent  England's  thirty  millions  from 
electing  themselves  dukes  and  duchesses  to-morrow 
and  calling  themselves  so.  And  within  six  months  all 
the  former  dukes  and  duchesses  would  have  retired 
from  the  business.  I  wish  they'd  try  that.  Royalty 
itself  couldn't  survive  such  a  process.  A  handful  of 
frowners  against  thirty  million  laughers  in  a  state  of 
eruption:  Why,  it's  Herculaneum  against  Vesuvius; 
it  would  take  another  eighteen  centuries  to  find  that 
Herculaneum  after  the  cataclysm.  What's  a  Colonel 
in  our  South?  He's  a  nobody;  because  they're  all 
colonels  down  there.  No,  Tracy"  (shudder  from 
Tracy),  "nobody  in  England  would  call  you  a  gentle- 
man, and  you  wouldn't  call  yourself  one;  and  I  tell 
you  it's  a  state  of  things  that  makes  a  man  put  him- 
self into  most  unbecoming  attitudes  sometimes — 
the  broad  and  general  recognition  and  acceptance  of 
caste  as  caste  does,  I  mean.  Makes  him  do  it  uncon- 

97 


MARK     TWAIN 

sciously — being  bred  in  him,  you  see,  and  never 
thought  over  and  reasoned  out.  You  couldn't  con- 
ceive of  the  Matterhorn  being  flattered  by  the  notice 
of  one  of  your  comely  little  English  hills,  could 
you?" 

"Why,  no." 

"Well,  then,  let  a  man  in  his  right  mind  try  to  con- 
ceive of  Darwin  feeling  flattered  by  the  notice  of  a 
princess.  It's  so  grotesque  that  it — well,  it  paralyzes 
the  imagination.  Yet  that  Memnon  was  flattered  by 
the  notice  of  that  statuette;  he  says  so — says  so  him-* 
self.  The  system  that  can  make  a  god  disown  his 
godship  and  profane  it — oh,  well,  it's  all  wrong,  it's 
all  wrong  and  ought  to  be  abolished,  I  should  say." 

The  mention  of  Darwin  brought  on  a  literary  dis- 
cussion, and  this  topic  roused  such  enthusiasm  in 
Barrow  that  he  took  off  his  coat  and  made  himself  the 
more  free  and  comfortable  for  it,  and  detained  him  so 
long  that  he  was  still  at  it  when  the  noisy  proprietors 
of  the  room  came  shouting  and  skylarking  in,  and 
began  to  romp,  scuffle,  wash,  and  otherwise  entertain 
themselves.  He  lingered  yet  a  little  longer  to  offer 
the  hospitalities  of  his  room  and  his  bookshelf  to 
Tracy,  and  ask  him  a  personal  question  or  two: 

"What  is  your  trade?" 

"They — well,  they  call  me  a  cowboy,  but  that  is  a 
fancy;  I'm  not  that.  I  haven't  any  trade." 

"What  do  you  work  at  for  your  living?" 

"Oh,  anything — I  mean  I  would  work  at  anything 
I  could  get  to  do,  but  thus  far  I  haven't  been  able  to 
find  an  occupation." 

"Maybe  I  can  help  you;  I'd  like  to  try.'* 

98 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"I  shall  be  very  glad.  I've  tried,  myself,  to 
weariness." 

"Well,  of  course,  where  a  man  hasn't  a  regular 
trade  he's  pretty  bad  off  in  this  world.  What  you 
needed,  I  reckon,  was  less  book-learning  and  more 
bread-and-butter-learning.  I  don't  know  what  your 
father  could  have  been  thinking  of.  You  ought  to 
have  had  a  trade,  you  ought  to  have  had  a  trade,  by 
all  means.  But  never  mind  about  that;  we'll  stir 
up  something  to  do,  I  guess.  And  don't  you  get 
homesick;  that's  a  bad  business.  We'll  talk  the 
thing  over  and  look  around  a  little.  You'll  come  out 
all  right.  Wait  for  me — I'll  go  down  to  supper  with 
you." 

By  this  time  Tracy  had  achieved  a  very  friendly 
feeling  for  Barrow,  and  would  have  called  him  a 
friend,  maybe,  if  not  taken  too  suddenly  on  a 
straight-out  requirement  to  realize  on  his  theories. 
He  was  glad  of  his  society,  anyway,  and  was  feeling 
lighter -hearted  than  before.  Also  he  was  pretty 
curious  to  know  what  vocation  it  might  be  which  had 
furnished  Barrow  such  a  large  acquaintanceship  with 
books  and  allowed  him  so  much  time  to  read. 


CHAPTER  XII 

"PRESENTLY  the  supper-bell  began  to  ring  in  the 
1  depths  of  the  house,  and  the  sound  proceeded 
steadily  upward,  growing  in  intensity  all  the  way  up 
toward  the  upper  floors.  The  higher  it  came  the 
more  maddening  was  the  noise,  until  at  last  what  it 
lacked  of  being  absolutely  deafening  was  made  up  of 
the  sudden  crash  and  clatter  of  an  avalanche  of 
boarders  down  the  uncarpeted  stairway.  The  peer- 
age did  not  go  to  meals  in  this  fashion;  Tracy's  train- 
ing had  not  fitted  him  to  enjoy  this  hilarious  zoologi- 
cal clamor  and  enthusiasm.  He  had  to  confess  that 
there  was  something  about  this  extraordinary  out- 
pouring of  animal  spirits  which  he  would  have  to 
get  inured  to  before  he  could  accept  it.  No  doubt  in 
time  he  would  prefer  it;  but  he  wished  the  process 
might  be  modified  and  made  just  a  little  more 
gradual,  and  not  quite  so  pronounced  and  violent. 
Barrow  and  Tracy  followed  the  avalanche  down 
through  an  ever-increasing  and  ever  more  and  more 
aggressive  stench  of  bygone  cabbage  and  kindred 
smells;  smells  which  are  to  be  found  nowhere  but  in 
a  cheap  private  boarding-house;  smells  which  once 
encountered  can  never  be  forgotten;  smells  which 
encountered  generations  later  are  instantly  recog- 
nizable, but  never  recognizable  with  pleasure.  To 

100 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

Tracy  these  odors  were  suffocating,  horrible,  almost 
unendurable;  but  he  held  his  peace  and  said  nothing. 
Arrived  in  the  basement,  they  entered  a  large  dining- 
room  where  thirty-five  or  forty  people  sat  at  a  long 
table.  They  took  their  places.  The  feast  had  al- 
ready begun,  and  the  conversation  was  going  on  in 
the  liveliest  way  from  one  end  of  the  table  to  the 
other.  The  tablecloth  was  of  very  coarse  material, 
and  was  liberally  spotted  with  coffee-stains  and 
grease.  The  knives  and  forks  were  iron,  with  bone 
handles.  The  spoons  appeared  to  be  iron  or  sheet 
iron,  or  something  of  the  sort.  The  tea  and  coffee 
cups  were  of  the  commonest  and  heaviest  and  most 
durable  stoneware.  All  the  furniture  of  the  table 
was  of  the  commonest  and  cheapest  sort.  There  was 
a  single  large,  thick  slice  of  bread  by  each  boarder's 
plate,  and  it  was  observable  that  he  economized  it 
as  if  he  were  not  expecting  it  to  be  duplicated. 
Dishes  of  butter  were  distributed  along  the  table 
within  reach  of  people's  arms,  if  they  had  long  ones, 
but  there  were  no  private  butter-plates.  The  butter 
was  perhaps  good  enough,  and  was  quiet  and  well 
behaved;  but  it  had  more  bouquet  than  was  neces- 
sary, though  nobody  commented  upon  that  fact  or 
seemed  in  any  way  disturbed  by  it.  The  main  fea- 
ture of  the  feast  was  a  piping-hot  Irish  stew  made  of 
the  potatoes  and  meat  left  over  from  a  procession  of 
previous  meals.  Everybody  was  liberally  supplied 
with  this  dish.  On  the  table  were  a  couple  of  great 
dishes  of  sliced  ham,  and  there  were  some  other 
eatables  of  minor  importance — preserves  and  New 
Orleans  molasses  and  such  things.  There  was  also 

101 


MARK    TWAIN 

plenty  of  tea  and  coffee  of  an  infernal  sort,  with  brown 
sugar  and  condensed  milk,  but.  the  milk  and  sugar 
supply  was  not  left  at  the  discretion  of  the  boarders, 
but  was  rationed  out  at  headquarters — one  spoon- 
ful of  sugar  and  one  of  condensed  milk  to  each  cup, 
and  no  more.  The  table  was  waited  upon  by  two 
stalwart  negro  women  who  raced  back  and  forth 
from  the  bases  of  supplies  with  splendid  dash  and 
clatter  and  energy.  Their  labors  were  supple- 
mented after  a  fashion  by  the  young  girl  Puss.  She 
carried  coffee  and  tea  back  and  forth  among  the 
boarders,  but  she  made  pleasure  excursions  rather 
than  business  ones  in  this  way,  to  speak  strictly.  She 
made  jokes  with  various  people.  She  chaffed  the 
young  men  pleasantly — and  wittily,  as  she  supposed, 
and  as  the  rest  also  supposed,  apparently,  judging  by 
the  applause  and  laughter  which  she  got  by  her 
efforts.  Manifestly  she  was  a  favorite  with  most  of 
the  young  fellows  and  sweetheart  of  the  rest  of  them. 
Where  she  conferred  notice  she  conferred  happinesst 
as  was  seen  by  the  face  of  the  recipient;  and  at  the 
same  time  she  conferred  unhappiness — one  could  see 
it  fall  and  dim  the  faces  of  the  other  young  fellows 
like  a  shadow.  She  never  " Mistered"  these  friends 
of  hers,  but  called  them  "Billy,"  "Tom,"  "John," 
and  they  called  her  "Puss"  or  "Hattie." 

Mr.  Marsh  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  his  wife 
sat  at  the  foot.  Marsh  was  a  man  of  sixty,  and  was 
an  American;  but  if  he  had  been  born  a  month 
earlier  he  would  have  been  a  Spaniard.  He  was 
plenty  good  enough  Spaniard  as  it  was ;  his  face  was 
very  dark,  his  hair  very  black,  and  his  eyes  were  not 

:  102 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

only  exceedingly  black,  but  were  very  intense,  and 
there  was  something  about  them  that  indicated  that 
they  could  burn  with  passion  upon  occasion.  He  was 
stoop-shouldered  and  lean-faced,  and  the  general 
aspect  of  him  was  disagreeable;  he  was  evidently  not 
a  very  companionable  person.  If  looks  went  for 
anything,  he  was  the  very  opposite  of  his  wife,  who 
was  all  motherliness  and  charity,  good-will  and  good- 
nature. All  the  young  men  and  the  women  called 
her  Aunt  Rachel,  which  was  another  sign.  Tracy's 
wandering  and  interested  eye  presently  fell  upon  one 
boarder  who  had  been  overlooked  in  the  distribution 
of  the  stew.  He  was  very  pale,  and  looked  as  if  he 
had  but  lately  come  out  of  a  sick-bed,  and  also  as  if 
he  ought  to  get  back  into  it  again  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble. His  face  was  very  melancholy.  The  waves  of 
laughter  and  conversation  broke  upon  it  without 
affecting  it  any  more  than  if  it  had  been  a  rock  in 
the  sea,  and  the  words  and  the  laughter  veritable 
waters.  He  held  his  head  down  and  looked  ashamed. 
Some  of  the  women  cast  glances  of  pity  toward  him 
from  time  to  time  in  a  furtive  and  half -afraid  way, 
and  some  of  the  youngest  of  the  men  plainly  had 
compassion  on  the  young  fellow — a  compassion  ex- 
hibited in  their  faces,  but  not  in  any  more  active  or 
compromising  way.  But  the  great  majority  of  the 
people  present  showed  entire  indifference  to  the 
youth  and  his  sorrows.  Marsh  sat  with  his  head 
down,  but  one  could  catch  the  malicious  gleam  of  his 
eyes  through  his  shaggy  brows.  He  was  watching 
that  young  fellow  with  evident  relish.  He  had  not 
neglected  Jiim  through  carelessness,  and  apparently 

103 


MARK    TWAIN 

the  table  understood  that  fact.  The  spectacle  was 
making  Mrs.  Marsh  very  uncomfortable.  She  had 
the  look  of  one  who  hopes  against  hope  that  the 
impossible  may  happen;  but  as  the  impossible  did 
not  happen,  she  finally  ventured  to  speak  up  and 
remind  her  husband  that  Nat  Brady  hadn't  been 
helped  to  the  Irish  stew. 

Marsh  lifted  his  head  and  gasped  out,  with  mock 
courtliness,  "Oh,  he  hasn't,  hasn't  he?  What  a  pity 
that  is.  I  don't  know  how  I  came  to  overlook  him. 
Ah,  he  must  pardon  me.  You  must,  indeed,  Mr. — 
er — Baxter — Barker,  you  must  pardon  me.  I — er 
— my  attention  was  directed  to  some  other  matter, 
I  don't  know  what.  The  thing  that  grieves  me 
mainly  is  that  it  happens  every  meal  now.  But  you 
must  try  to  overlook  these  little  things,  Mr.  Bunker, 
these  little  neglects  on  my  part.  They're  always 
likely  to  happen  with  me  in  any  case,  and  they  are 
especially  likely  to  happen  where  a  person  has — er — 
well,  where  a  person  is,  say,  about  three  weeks  in  arrears 
for  his  board.  You  get  my  meaning? — you  get  my 
idea?  Here  is  your  Irish  stew,  and — er — it  gives  me  the 
greatest  pleasure  to  send  it  to  you,  and  I  hope  that  you 
will  enjoy  the  charity  as  much  as  I  enjoy  conferring  it. ' ' 

A  blush  rose  in  Brady's  white  cheeks  and  flowed 
slowly  backward  to  his  ears  and  upward  toward  his 
forehead,  but  he  said  nothing  and  began  to  eat  his 
food  under  the  embarrassment  of  a  general  silence 
and  the  sense  that  all  eyes  were  fastened  upon  him. 
Barrow  whispered  to  Tracy: 

"The  old  man's  been  waiting  for  that.  He 
wouldn't  have  missed  that  chance  for  anything." 

104 


.      THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"It's  a  brutal  business,"  said  Tracy/  Then  he  said 
to  himself,  purposing  to  set  the  thought  down  in  his 
diary  later: 

"Well,  here  in  this  very  house  is  a  republic  where 
all  are  free  and  equal,  if  men  are  free  and  equal  any- 
where in  the  earth;  therefore  I  have  arrived  at  the 
place  I  started  to  find,  and  I  am  a  man  among  men, 
and  on  the  strictest  equality  possible  to  men,  no 
doubt.  Yet  here  on  the  threshold  I  find  an  in- 
equality. There  are  people  at  this  table  who  are 
looked  up  to  for  some  reason  or  another,  and  here 
is  a  poor  devil  of  a  boy  who  is  looked  down  upon, 
treated  with  indifference  and  shamed  by  humilia- 
tions, when  he  has  committed  no  crime  but  that 
common  one  of  being  poor.  Equality  ought  to 
make  men  noble-minded.  In  fact,  I  had  supposed 
it  did  do  that." 

After  supper  Barrow  proposed  a  walk,  and  they 
started.  Barrow  had  a  purpose.  He  wanted  Tracy 
to  get  rid  of  that  cowboy  hat.  He  didn't  see  his  way 
to  finding  mechanical  or  manual  employment  for  a 
person  rigged  in  that  fashion.  Barrow  presently  said : 

"As  I  understand  it,  you're  not  a  cowboy." 

"No,  I'm  not." 

"Well,  now,  if  you  will  not  think  me  too  curious, 
how  did  you  come  to  mount  that  hat?  Where'd  you 
get  it?" 

Tracy  didn't  know  quite  how  to  reply  to  this,  but 
presently  said: 

"Well,  without  going  into  particulars,  I  exchanged 
clothes  with  a  stranger  under  stress  of  weather,  and 
I  would  like  to  find  him  and  re-exchange." 

105 


MARK     TWAIN 

"Well,  why  don't  you  find  him?    Where  is  he?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  supposed  the  best  way  to  find 
him  would  be  to  continue  to  wear  his  clothes,  which 
are  conspicuous  enough  to  attract  his  attention  if  I 
should  meet  him  on  the  street." 

"Oh,  very  well,"  said  Barrow;  "the  rest  of  the 
outfit  is  well  enough,  and  while  it's  not  too  con- 
spicuous, it  isn't  quite  like  the  clothes  that  anybody 
else  wears.  Suppress  the  hat.  When  you  meet  your 
man  he'll  recognize  the  rest  of  his  suit.  That's  a 
mighty  embarrassing  hat,  you  know,  in  a  center  of 
civilization  like  this.  I  don't  believe  an  angel  could 
get  employment  in  Washington  in  a  halo  like 
that." 

Tracy  agreed  to  replace  the  hat  with  something  of 
a  modester  form,  and  they  stepped  aboard  a  crowded 
car  and  stood  with  others  on  the  rear  platform.  Pres- 
ently, as  the  car  moved  swiftly  along  the  rails,  two 
men  crossing  the  street  caught  sight  of  the  backs  of 
Barrow  and  Tracy,  and  both  exclaimed  at  once, 
"There  he  is!"  It  was  Sellers  and  Hawkins.  Both 
were  so  paralyzed  with  joy  that  before  they  could 
pull  themselves  together  and  make  an  effort  to  stop 
the  car  it  was  gone  too  far,  and  they  decided  to  wait 
for  the  next  one.  They  waited  awhile;  then  it  oc- 
curred to  Washington  that  there  could  be  no  use 
in  chasing  one  horse-car  with  another,  and  he  wanted 
to  hunt  up  a  hack.  But  the  Colonel  said: 

"When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  there's  no  occasion 
for  that  at  all.  Now  that  I've  got  him  materialized, 
I  can  command  his  motions.  I'll  have  him  at  the 
house  by  the  time  we  get  there." 

106 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

Then  they  hurried  off  home  in  a  state  of  great  and 
joyful  excitement. 

The  hat  exchange  accomplished,  the  two  new 
friends  started  to  walk  back  leisurely  to  the  boarding- 
house.  Barrow's  mind  was  full  of  curiosity  about 
this  young  fellow.  He  said: 

"You've  never  been  to  the  Rocky  Mountains?" 

"No." 

"You've  never  been  out  on  the  plains?" 

"No." 

"How  long  have  you  been  in  this  country?" 

"Only  a  few  days." 

"You've  never  been  in  America  before?" 

"No." 

Then  Barrow  communed  with  himself.  "Now 
what  odd  shapes  the  notions  of  romantic  people  take. 
Here's  a  fellow  who's  read  in  England  about  cowboys 
and  adventures  on  the  plains.  He  comes  here  and 
buys  a  cowboy's  suit.  Thinks  he  can  play  himself 
on  folks  for  a  cowboy,  all  inexperienced  as  he  is. 
Now  the  minute  he's  caught  in  this  poor  little  game, 
he's  ashamed  of  it  and  ready  to  retire  from  it.  It  is 
that  exchange  that  he  has  put  up  as  an  explanation. 
It's  rather  thin,  too  thin  altogether.  Well,  he's 
young,  never  been  anywhere,  knows  nothing  about 
the  world,  sentimental,  no  doubt.  Perhaps  it  was 
the  natural  thing  for  him  to  do,  but  it  was  a  most 
singular  choice,  curious  freak,  altogether." 

Both  men  were  busy  with  their  thoughts  for  a 
time;  then  Tracy  heaved  a  sigh  and  said: 

"Mr.  Barrow,  the  case  of  that  young  fellow 
troubles  me." 

107 


MARK    TWAIN 

"You  mean  Nat  Brady?" 

"Yes,  Brady,  or  Baxter,  or  whatever  it  was.  The 
old  landlord  called  him  by  several  different  names." 

"Oh,  yes,  he  has  been  very  liberal  with  names 
for  Brady,  since  Brady  fell  into  arrears  for  his  board. 
Well,  that's  one  of  his  sarcasms — the  old  man  thinks 
he's  great  on  sarcasm." 

"Well,  what  is  Brady's  difficulty?  What  is 
Brady — who  is  he?" 

"Brady  is  a  tinner.  He's  a  young  journeyman 
tinner  who  was  getting  along  all  right  till  he  fell  sick 
and  lost  his  job.  He  was  very  popular  before  he  lost 
his  job;  everybody  in  the  house  liked  Brady.  The 
old  man  was  rather  especially  fond  of  him,  but  you 
know  that  when  a  man  loses  his  job  and  loses  his 
ability  to  support  himself  and  to  pay  his  way  as  he 
goes,  it  makes  a  great  difference  in  the  way  people 
look  at  him  and  feel  about  him." 

"Is  that  so!    Is  it  so?" 

Barrow  looked  at  Tracy  in  a  puzzled  way.  "Why, 
of  course  it's  so.  Wouldn't  you  know  that,  naturally? 
Don't  you  know  that  the  wounded  deer  is  always 
attacked  and  killed  by  its  companions  and  friends?" 

Tracy  said  to  himself,  while  a  chilly  and  boding 
discomfort  spread  itself  through  his  system,  "In  a 
republic  of  deer  and  men,  where  all  are  free  and 
equal,  misfortune  is  a  crime,  and  the  prosperous  gore 
the  unfortunate  to  death."  Then  he  said  aloud, 
"Here  in  the  boarding-house,  if  one  would  have 
friends  and  be  popular,  instead  of  having  the  cold 
shoulder  turned  upon  him,  he  must  be  prosperous." 

"Yes,"  Barrow  said,  "that  is  so.  It's  their 
1 08 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

human  nature.  They  do  turn  against  Brady,  now 
that  he's  unfortunate,  and  they  don't  like  him  as 
well  as  they  did  before;  but  it  isn't  because  of  any 
lack  in  Brady — he's  just  as  he  was  before,  has  the 
same  nature  and  the  same  impulses,  but  they — well, 
Brady  is  a  thorn  in  their  conscience,  you  see.  They 
know  they  ought  to  help  him  and  they're  too  stingy 
to  do  it,  and  they're  ashamed  of  themselves  for  that, 
and  they  ought  also  to  hate  themselves  on  that 
account,  but  instead  of  that  they  hate  Brady  because 
he  makes  them  ashamed  of  themselves.  I  say  that's 
human  nature;  that  occurs  everywhere;  this  board- 
ing-house is  merely  the  world  in  little;  it's  the  case 
all  over — they're  all  alike.  In  prosperity  we  are 
popular;  popularity  comes  easy  in  that  case,  but 
when  the  other  thing  comes  our  friends  are  pretty 
likely  to  turn  against  us." 

Tracy's  noble  theories  and  high  purposes  were 
beginning  to  feel  pretty  damp  and  clammy.  He  won- 
dered if  by  any  possibility  he  had  made  a  mistake  in 
throwing  his  own  prosperity  to  the  winds  and  taking 
up  the  cross  of  other  people's  unprosperity.  But  he 
wouldn't  listen  to  that  sort  of  thing;  he  cast  it  out  of 
his  mind,  and  resolved  to  go  ahead  resolutely  along 
the  course  he  had  mapped  out  for  himself. 

Extracts  from  his  diary: 

Have  now  spent  several  days  in  this  singular  hive.  I  don't 
know  quite  what  to  make  out  of  these  people.  They  have 
merits  and  virtues,  but  they  have  some  other  qualities,  and  some 
ways  that  are  hard  to  get  along  with.  I  can't  enjoy  them. 
The  moment  I  appeared  in  a  hat  of  the  period  I  noticed  a 
change.  The  respect  which  had  been  paid  me  before  passed 
suddenly  away,  and  the  people  became  friendly — more  than  that, 

109 


they  became  familiar,  and  I'm  not  used  to  familiarity,  and  can't 
take  to  it  right  off;  I  find  that  out.  These  people's  familiarity 
amounts  to  impudence,  sometimes.  I  suppose  it's  all  right;  no 
doubt  I  can  get  used  to  it,  but  it's  not  a  satisfactory  process  at 
all.  I  have  accomplished  my  dearest  wish;  I  am  a  man  among 
men,  on  an  equal  footing  with  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,  and  yet 
it  isn't  just  exactly  what  I  thought  it  was  going  to  be.  I — I  miss 
home.  Am  obliged  to  say  I  am  homesick.  Another  thing — and 
this  is  a  confession — a  reluctant  one,  but  I  will  make  it:  The 
thing  I  miss  most,  and  most  severely,  is  the  respect,  the  defer- 
ence, with  which  I  was  treated  all  my  life  in  England,  and  which 
seems  to  be  somehow  necessary  to  me.  I  get  along  very  well 
without  the  luxury  and  the  wealth  and  the  sort  of  society  Fv« 
been  accustomed  to,  but  I  do  miss  the  respect,  and  can't  seem  to 
get  reconciled  to  the  absence  of  it.  There  is  respect,  there  is 
deference  here,  but  it  doesn't  fall  to  my  share.  It  is  lavished  on 
two  men.  One  of  them  is  a  portly  man  of  middle  age  who  is  a 
retired  plumber.  Everybody  is  pleased  to  have  that  man's 
notice.  He's  full  of  pomp  and  circumstance  and  self-com- 
placency and  bad  grammar,  and  at  table  he  is  Sir  Oracle,  and 
when  he  opens  his  mouth  not  any  dog  in  the  kennel  barks.  The 
other  person  is  a  policeman  at  the  Capitol  building.  He  repre- 
sents the  government.  The  deference  paid  to  these  two  men  is 
not  so  very  far  short  of  that  paid  to  an  earl  in  England,  though 
the  method  of  it  differs.  Not  so  much  courtliness,  but  the 
deference  is  all  there. 

Yes,  and  there  is  obsequiousness,  too. 

It  does  rather  look  as  if  in  a  republic  where  all  are  free  and 
equal  prosperity  and  position  constitute  rank. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  days  drifted  by,  and  they  grew  ever  more 
dreary.  For  Barrow's  efforts  to  find  work  for 
Tracy  were  unavailing.  Always  the  first  question 
asked  was,  "What  union  do  you  belong  to?" 

Tracy  was  obliged  to  reply  that  he  didn't  belong  to 
any  trade-union. 

"Very  well,  then,  it's  impossible  to  employ  you. 
My  men  wouldn't  stay  with  me  if  I  should  employ  a 
'scab,'  or  'rat,'"  or  whatever  the  phrase  was. 

Finally,  Tracy  had  a  happy  thought.  He  said, 
"Why,  the  thing  for  me  to  do,  of  course,  is  to  join  a 
trade-union." 

"Yes,"  Barrow  said;  "that  is  the  thing  for  you  to 
do — if  you  can." 

"If  I  can ?    Is  it  difficult?" 

"Well,  yes,"  Barrow  said,  "it's  sometimes  difficult 
— in  fact,  very  difficult.  But  you  can  try,  and  of 
course  it  will  be  best  to  try." 

Therefore  Tracy  tried;  but  he  did  not  succeed.  He 
was  refused  admission  with  a  good  deal  of  prompt- 
ness, and  was  advised  to  go  back  home,  where  he 
belonged,  not  come  here  taking  honest  men's  bread 
out  of  their  mouths.  Tracy  began  to  realize  that  the 
situation  was  desperate,  and  the  thought  made  him 
cold  to  the  marrow.  He  said  to  himself,  "So  there  is 

8  III 


MARK    TWAIN 

an  aristocracy  of  position  here,  and  an  aristocracy  of 
prosperity,  and  apparently  there  is  also  an  aristocracy 
of  the  ins  as  opposed  to  the  outs,  and  I  am  with  the 
outs.  So  the  ranks  grow  daily  here.  Plainly  there 
are  all  lands  of  castes  here,  and  only  one  that  I 
belong  to — the  outcasts."  But  he  couldn't  even 
smile  at  his  small  joke,  although  he  was  obliged  to 
confess  that  he  had  a  rather  good  opinion  of  it. 
He  was  feeling  so  defeated  and  miserable  by  this 
time  that  he  could  no  longer  look  with  philosophi- 
cal complacency  on  the  horse-play  of  the  young 
fellows  in  the  upper  rooms  at  night.  At  first  it 
had  been  pleasant  to  see  them  unbend  and  have 
a  good  time  after  having  so  well  earned  it  by  the 
labors  of  the  day,  but  now  it  all  rasped  upon  his 
feelings  and  his  dignity.  He  lost  patience  with  the 
spectacle.  When  they  were  feeling  good  they  shouted, 
they  scuffled,  they  sang  songs,  they  romped  about  the 
place  like  cattle,  and  they  generally  wound  up  with  a 
pillow-fight,  in  which  they  banged  each  other  over 
the  head,  and  threw  the  pillows  in  all  directions,  and 
every  now  and  then  he  got  a  buffet  himself;  and  they 
were  always  inviting  him  to  join  in.  They  called 
him  "Johnny  Bull,"  and  invited  him  with  excessive 
familiarity  to  take  a  hand.  At  first  he  had  endured 
all  this  with  good-nature,  but  latterly  he  had  shown 
by  his  manner  that  it  was  distinctly  distasteful  to 
him,  and  very  soon  he  saw  a  change  in  the  manner  of 
these  young  people  toward  him.  They  were  souring 
on  him,  as  they  would  have  expressed  it  in  their 
language.  He  had  never  been  what  might  be  called 
popular.  That  was  hardly  the  phrase  for  it;  he  had 

iia  ^ 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

merely  been  liked,  but  now  dislike  for  him  was  grow- 
ing. His  case  was  not  helped  by  the  fact  that  he  was 
out  of  luck,  couldn't  get  work,  didn't  belong  to  a 
union,  and  couldn't  gain  admission  to  one.  He  got  a 
good  many  slights  of  that  small,  ill-defined  sort  that 
you  can't  quite  put  your  finger  on,  and  it  was  mani- 
fest that  there  was  only  one  thing  which  protected 
him  from  open  insult,  and  that  was  his  muscle. 
These  young  people  had  seen  him  exercising  morn- 
ings, after  his  cold  sponge  bath,  and  they  had  per- 
ceived by  his  performance  and  the  build  of  his  body 
that  he  was  athletic,  and  also  versed  in  boxing.  He 
felt  pretty  naked  now,  recognizing  that  he  was  shorn 
of  all  respect  except  respect  for  his  fists.  One  night 
when  he  entered  his  room  he  found  about  a  dozen 
of  the  young  fellows  there  carrying  on  a  very  lively 
conversation  punctuated  with  horse-laughter.  The 
talking  ceased  instantly,  and  the  frank  affront  of  a 
dead  silence  followed.  He  said: 

"Good  evening,  gentlemen,"  and  sat  down. 

There  was  no  response.  He  flushed  to  the  temples, 
but  forced  himself  to  maintain  silence.  He  sat  there 
in  this  uncomfortable  stillness  some  time,  then  got 
up  and  went  out. 

The  moment  he  had  disappeared  he  heard  a  pro- 
digious shout  of  laughter  break  forth.  He  saw  that 
their  plain  purpose  had  been  to  insult  him.  He 
ascended  to  the  flat  roof,  hoping  to  be  able  to  cool 
down  his  spirit  there  and  get  back  his  tranquillity. 
He  found  the  young  tinner  up  there,  alone  and  brood- 
ing, and  entered  into  conversation  with  him.  They 
were  pretty  fairly  matched  now  in  unpopularity  and 

"3 


MARK    TWAIN 

general  ill-luck  and  misery,  and  they  had  no  trouble 
in  meeting  upon  this  common  ground  with  advantage 
and  something  of  comfort  to  both.  But  Tracy's 
movements  had  been  watched,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
the  tormentors  came  straggling  one  after  another  to 
the  roof,  where  they  began  to  stroll  up  and  down  in 
an  apparently  purposeless  way.  But  presently  they 
fell  to  dropping  remarks  that  were  evidently  aimed  at 
Tracy,  and  some  of  them  at  the  tinner.  The  ring- 
leader of  this  little  mob  was  a  short-haired  bully  and 
amateur  prize-fighter  named  Allen,  who  was  accus- 
tomed to  lording  it  over  the  upper  floor,  and  had 
more  than  once  shown  a  disposition  to  make  trouble 
with  Tracy.  Now  there  was  an  occasional  cat-call, 
and  hootings,  and  whistlings,  and  finally  the  diver- 
sion of  an  exchange  of  connected  remarks  was  intro- 
duced: 

"How  many  does  it  take  to  make  a  pair?" 

"Well,  two  generally  makes  a  pair,  but  sometimes 
there  ain't  stuff  enough  in  them  to  make  a  whole 
pair."  General  laugh. 

"What  were  you  saying  about  the  English  awhile 
ago?" 

"Oh,  nothing;   the  English  are  all  right,  only — 

T " 

"What  was  it  you  said  about  them?" 
"Oh,  I  only  said  they  swallow  well." 
"Swallow  better  than  other  people?" 
"Oh,  yes;  the  English  swallow  a  good  deal  better 
than  other  people." 

"What  is  it  they  swallow  best?" 
"Oh,  insults. "    Another  general  laugh. 
114 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"Pretty  hard  to  make  'em  fight,  ain't  it?" 

"No,  'tain't  hard  to  make  'em  fight." 

"Ain't  it,  really?" 

"No,  'tain't  hard.  It's  impossible."  Another 
laugh. 

"This  one's  kind  of  spiritless,  that's  certain." 

"Couldn't  be  the  other  way — in  his  case." 

"Why?" 

"Don't  you  know  the  secret  of  his  birth?" 

"No!    Has  he  got  a  secret  of  his  birth?" 

"You  bet  he  has." 

"What  is  it?" 

"His  father  was  a  wax-figger." 

Allen  came  strolling  by  where  the  pair  were  sitting, 
stopped,  and  said  to  the  tinner: 

"How  are  you  off  for  friends  these  days?" 

"Well  enough  off." 

"Got  a  good  many?" 

"Well,  as  many  as  I  need." 

"A  friend  is  valuable,  sometimes — as  a  protector, 
you  know.  What  do  you  reckon  would  happen  if  I 
was  to  snatch  your  cap  off  and  slap  you  in  the  face 
with  it?" 

"Please  don't  trouble  me,  Mr.  Allen,  I  ain't  doing 
anything  to  you." 

"You  answer  me!  What  do  you  reckon  would 
happen?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know." 

Tracy  spoke  up  with  a  good  deal  of  deliberation, 
and  said: 

"Don't  trouble  the  young  fellow.  I  can  tell  you 
what  would  happen." 

"S 


MARK    TWAIN 

i 
"Oh,  you  can,  can  you?    Boys,  Johnny  Bull  can 

tell  us  what  would  happen  if  I  was  to  snatch  this 
chump's  cap  off  and  slap  him  in  the  face  with  it. 
Now  you'll  see." 

He  snatched  the  cap  and  struck  the  youth  in  the 
face,  and  before  he  could  inquire  what  was  going  to 
happen  it  had  already  happened,  and  he  was  warming 
the  tin  with  the  broad  of  his  back.  Instantly  there 
was  a  rush,  and  shouts  of  "A  ring!  a  ring!  make  a 
ring !  Fair  play  all  round !  Johnny's  grit ;  give  him 
a  chance." 

The  ring  was  quickly'chalked  on  the  tin,  and  Tracy 
found  himself  as  eager  to  begin  as  he  could  have  been 
if  his  antagonist  had  been  a  prince  instead  of  a 
mechanic.  At  bottom  he  was  a  little  surprised  at  this, 
because  although  his  theories  had  been  all  in  that 
direction  for  some  time,  he  was  not  prepared  to  find 
himself  actually  eager  to  measure  strength  with  quite 
so  common  a  man  as  this  ruffian.  In  a  moment  all 
the  windows  in  the  neighborhood  were  filled  with 
people,  and  the  roofs  also.  The  men  squared  off,  and 
the  fight  began.  But  Allen  stood  no  chance  whatever 
against  the  young  Englishman.  Neither  in  muscle 
nor  in  science  was  he  his  equal.  He  measured  his 
length  on  the  tin  time  and  again;  in  fact,  as  fast  as 
he  could  get  up  he  went  down  again,  and  the  applause 
was  kept  up  in  liberal  fashion  from  all  the  neighbor- 
hood around.  Finally,  Allen  had  to  be  helped  up. 
Then  Tracy  declined  to  punish  him  further  and  the 
fight  was  at  an  end.  Allen  was  carried  off  by  some 
of  his  friends  in  a  very  much  humbled  condition,  his 
face  black-and-blue  and  bleeding,  and  Tracy  was  at 

116 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

once  surrounded  by  the  young  fellows,  who  congratu- 
lated him,  and  told  him  that  he  had  done  the  whole 
house  a  service,  and  that  from  this  out  Mr.  Allen 
would  be  a  little  more  particular  about  how  he 
handed  slights  and  insults  and  maltreatment  around 
among  the  boarders. 

Tracy  was  a  hero  now,  and  exceedingly  popular. 
Perhaps  nobody  had  ever  been  quite  so  popular  on 
that  upper  floor  before.  But  if  being  discountenanced 
by  these  young  fellows  had  been  hard  to  bear,  their 
lavish  commendations  and  approval  and  hero-wor- 
ship were  harder  still  to  endure.  He  felt  degraded, 
but  he  did  not  allow  himself  to  analyze  the  reasons 
why  too  closely.  He  was  content  to  satisfy  himself 
with  the  suggestion  that  he  looked  upon  himself  as 
degraded  by  the  public  spectacle  which  he  had  made 
of  himself,  fighting  on  a  tin  roof  for  the  delectation  of 
everybody  a  block  or  two  around.  But  he  wasn't 
entirely  satisfied  with  that  explanation  of  it.  Once 
he  went  a  little  too  far,  and  wrote  in  his  diary  that  his 
case  was  worse  than  that  of  the  prodigal  son.  He 
said  the  prodigal  son  merely  fed  swine;  he  didn't 
have  to  chum  with  them.  But  he  struck  that  out, 
and  said,  "All  men  are  equal.  I  will  not  dis- 
own my  principles.  These  men  are  as  good  as 
I  am." 

Tracy  was  become  popular  on  the  lower  floors  also. 
Everybody  was  grateful  for  Allen's  reduction  to  the 
ranks,  and  for  his  transformation  from  a  doer  of  out- 
rages to  a  mere  threatener  of  them.  The  young  girls, 
of  whom  there  were  half  a  dozen,  showed  many  atten- 
tions to  Tracy,  particularly  that  boarding-house  pet 

117 


MARK    TWAIN 

Hattie,  the  landlady's  daughter.  She  said  to  him, 
very  sweetly: 

"I  think  you're  ever  so  nice." 

And  when  he  said,  "I'm  glad  you  think  so,  Miss 
Hattie,"  she  said,  still  more  sweetly: 

"Don't  call  me  Miss  Hattie — call  me  Puss." 

Ah,  here  was  promotion !  He  had  struck  the  sum- 
mit. There  were  no  higher  heights  to  climb  in  that 
boarding-house.  His  popularity  was  complete. 

In  the  presence  of  people  Tracy  showed  a  tranquil 
outside,  but  his  heart  was  being  eaten  out  of  him  by 
distress  and  despair. 

In  a  little  while  he  should  be  out  of  money,  and 
then  what  should  he  do?  He  wished  now  that  he 
had  borrowed  a  little  more  liberally  from  that 
stranger's  store.  He  found  it  impossible  to  sleep. 
A  single  torturing,  terrifying  thought  went  racking 
round  and  round  in  his  head,  wearing  a  groove  in  his 
brain:  What  should  he  do — what  was  to  become  of 
him?  And  along  with  it  began  to  intrude  a  some- 
thing presently  which  was  very  like  a  wish  that  he 
had  not  joined  the  great  and  noble  ranks  of  martyr- 
dom, but  had  stayed  at  home  and  been  content  to  be 
merely  an  earl  and  nothing  better,  with  nothing  more 
to  do  in  this  world  of  a  useful  sort  than  an  earl  finds 
to  do.  But  he  smothered  that  part  of  his  thought 
as  well  as  he  could;  he  made  every  effort  to  drive  it 
away,  and  with  fair  success,  but  he  couldn't  keep  it 
from  intruding  a  little  now  and  then,  and  when  it 
intruded  it  came  suddenly  and  nipped  him  like  a 
bite,  a  sting,  a  burn.  He  recognized  that  thought 
t>y  the  peculiar  sharpness  of  its  pang.  The  others 

1x8 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

were  painful  enough,  but  that  one  cut  to  the  quick 
when  it  came.  Night  after  night  he  lay  tossing  to 
the  music  of  the  hideous  snoring  of  the  honest  bread- 
winners until  two  and  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
then  got  up  and  took  refuge  on  the  roof,  where  he 
sometimes  got  a  nap  and  sometimes  failed  entirely. 
His  appetite  was  leaving  him,  and  the  zest  of  life  was 
going  along  with  it.  Finally,  one  day,  being  near  the 
imminent  verge  of  total  discouragement,  he  said  to 
himself — and  took  occasion  to  blush  privately  when 
he  said  it,  "If  my  father  knew  what  my  American 
name  is — he — well,  my  duty  to  my  father  rather 
requires  that  I  furnish  him  my  name.  I  have  no 
right  to  make  his  days  and  nights  unhappy,  I  can  do 
enough  unhappiness  for  the  family  all  by  myself. 
Really  he  ought  to  know  what  my  American  name 
is."  He  thought  over  it  awhile,  and  framed  a  cable- 
gram in  his  mind  to  this  effect: 

"My  American  name  is  Howard  Tracy." 
That  wouldn't  be  suggesting  anything.  His  father 
could  understand  that  as  he  chose,  and  doubtless  he 
would  understand  it  as  it  was  meant,  as  a  dutiful  and 
affectionate  desire  on  the  part  of  a  son  to  make  his  old 
father  happy  for  a  moment.  Continuing  his  train  of 
thought,  Tracy  said  to  himself,  "Ah,  but  if  he  should 
cable  me  to  come  home!  I — I — couldn't  do  that — 
I  mustn't  do  that.  I've  started  out  on  a  mission,  and 
I  mustn't  turn  my  back  on  it  in  cowardice.  No,  no, 
I  couldn't  go  home,  at — at — least  I  shouldn't  want  to 
go  home."  After  a  reflective  pause:  "Well,  maybe 
— perhaps — it  would  be  my  duty  to  go  in  the  circum- 
stances; he's  very  old,  and  he  does  need  me  by  him 

119 


MARK    TWAIN 

to  stay  his  footsteps  down  the  long  hill  that  inclines 
westward  toward  the  sunset  of  his  life.  Well,  I'll 
think  about  that.  Yes,  of  course  it  wouldn't  be 
right  to  stay  here.  I — if  I — well,  perhaps  I  could  just 
drop  him  a  line  and  put  it  off  a  little  while  and  satisfy 
him  in  that  way.  It  would  be — well,  it  would  mar 
everything  to  have  him  require  me  to  come  in- 
stantly. ' '  Another  reflective  pause — then :  '  'And  yet 
if  he  should  do  that  I  don't  know  but — oh,  dear  me — 
home!  how  good  it  sounds!  and  a  body  is  excusable 
for  wanting  to  see  his  home  again,  now  and  then, 
anyway." 

He  went  to  one  of  the  telegraph  offices  in  the  ave- 
nue and  got  the  first  end  of  what  Barrow  called  the 
"usual  Washington  courtesy,"  where  "they  treat  you 
as  a  tramp  until  they  find  out  you're  a  Congressman, 
and  then  they  slobber  all  over  you."  There  was  a 
boy  of  seventeen  on  duty  there,  tying  his  shoe.  He 
had  his  foot  on  a  chair  and  his  back  turned  toward 
the  wicket.  He  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  took 
Tracy's  measure,  turned  back,  and  went  on  tying  his 
shoe.  Tracy  finished  writing  his  telegram  and  waited, 
still  waited,  and,  still  waited  for  that  performance  to 
finish,  but  there  didn't  seem  to  be  any  finish  to  it; 
so  finally  Tracy  said: 

"Can't  you  take  my  telegram?" 

The  youth  looked  over  his  shoulder  and  said,  by  his 
manner,  not  his  words: 

"Don't  you  think  you  could  wait  a  minute  if  you 
tried?" 

However,  he  got  the  shoe  tied  at  last,  and  came  and 
took  the  telegram,  glanced  over  it,  then  looked  up 

120 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

surprised  at  Tracy.  There  was  something  in  his 
look  that  bordered  upon  respect,  almost  reverence,  it 
seemed  to  Tracy,  although  he  had  been  so  long  with- 
out anything  of  this  kind  he  was  not  sure  that  he 
knew  the  signs  of  it. 

The  boy  read  the  address  aloud  with  pleased  ex- 
pression in  face  and  voice. 

"The  Earl  of  Rossmore!  Cracky!  Do  you  know 
him?" 

"Yes." 

"Is  that  so?    Does  he  know  you?" 

"Well— yes." 

"Well,  I  swear!    Will  he  answer  you?" 

"I  think  he  will." 

"Will  he,  though?    Where'll  you  have  it  sent?" 

"Oh,  nowhere.  I'll  call  here  and  get  it.  When 
shall  I  call?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know — I'll  send  it  to  you.  Where 
shall  I  send  it?  Give  me  your  address;  I'll  send  it 
to  you  soon's  it  comes." 

But  Tracy  didn't  propose  to  do  this.  He  had 
acquired  the  boy's  admiration  and  deferential  re- 
spect, and  he  wasn't  wijjing  to  throw  these  precious 
things  away,  a  result  sure  to  follow  if  he  should  give 
the  address  of  that  boarding-house.  So  he  said 
again  that  he  would  call  and  get  the  telegram,  and 
went  his  way. 

He  idled  along,  reflecting.  He  said  to  himself, 
' '  There  is  something  pleasant  about  being  respected. 
I  have  acquired  the  respect  of  Mr.  Allen  and  some  of 
those  others,  and  almost  the  deference  of  some  of 
them  on  pure  merit,  for  having  thrashed  Allen. 

121 


MARK    TWAIN 

While  their  respect  and  their  deference — if  it  is 
deference — is  pleasant,  a  deference  based  upon  a 
sham,  a  shadow,  does  really  seem  pleasanter  still. 
It's  no  real  merit  to  be  in  correspondence  with  an 
earl,  and  yet,  after  all,  that  boy  makes  me  feel  as 
if  there  was." 

The  cablegram  was  actually  gone  home!  The 
thought  of  it  gave  him  an  immense  uplift.  He 
walked  with  a  lighter  tread.  His  heart  was  full  of 
happiness.  He  threw  aside  all  hesitancies,  and  con- 
fessed to  himself  that  he  was  glad  through  and 
through  that  he  was  going  to  give  up  this  experiment 
and  go  back  to  his  home  again.  His  eagerness  to 
get  his  father's  answer  began  to  grow  now,  and  it 
grew  with  marvelous  celerity  after  it  began.  He 
waited  an  hour,  walking  about,  putting  in  his  time 
as  well  as  he  could,  but  interested  in  nothing  that 
came  under  his  eye,  and  at  last  he  presented  himself 
at  the  office  again  and  asked  if  any  answer  had 
come  yet.  The  boy  said: 

"No,  no  answer  yet";  then  glanced  at  the  clock 
and  added,  "I  don't  think  it's  likely  you'll  get  one 
to-day." 

"Why  not?" 

"Well,  you  see  it's  getting  pretty  late.  You  can't 
always  tell  where'bouts  a  man  is  when  he's  on  the 
other  side,  and  you  can't  always  find  him  just  the 
minute  you  want  him,  and  you  see  it's  getting  about 
six  o'clock  now,  and  over  there  it's  pretty  late  at  night. ' ' 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Tracy,  "Ihadn't  thought  of  that." 

"Yes,  pretty  late  now — half -past  ten  or  eleven. 
Oh, yes, you  probably  won't  get  any  answer  to-night." 

122 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SO  Tracy  went  home  to  supper.  The  odors  in  that 
supper-room  seemed  more  strenuous  and  more 
horrible  than  ever  before,  and  he  was  happy  in  the 
thought  that  he  was  so  soon  to  be  free  from  them 
again.  When  the  supper  was  over  he  hardly  knew 
whether  he  had  eaten  any  of  it  or  not,  and  he  cer- 
tainly hadn't  heard  any  of  the  conversation.  His- 
heart  had  been  dancing  all  the  time,  his  thoughts  had 
been  far  away  from  these  things,  and  in  the  visions 
of  his  mind  the  sumptuous  appointments  of  his 
father's  castle  had  risen  before  him  without  rebuke. 
Even  the  plushed  flunky,  that  walking  symbol  of  a 
sham  inequality,  had  not  been  unpleasant  to  his 
dreaming  view.  After  the  meal  Barrow  said: 

"Come  with  me.     I'll  give  you  a  jolly  evening." 

"Very  good.    Where  are  you  going?" 

"To  my  club." 

"What  club  is  that?" 

"Mechanics'  Debating  Club." 

Tracy  shuddered  slightly.  He  didn't  say  any- 
thing about  having  visited  that  place  himself. 
Somehow  he  didn't  quite  relish  the  memory  of  that 
time.  The  sentiments  which  had  made  his  former 
visit  there  so  enjoyable,  and  filled  him  with  such 
enthusiasm,  had  undergone  a  gradual  change,  and 

123  .-•• 


MARK    TWAIN 

they  had  rotted  away  to  such  a  degree  that  he 
couldn't  contemplate  another  visit  there  with  any- 
thing strongly  resembling  delight;  in  fact,  he  was  a 
little  ashamed  to  go.  He  didn't  want  to  go  there 
and  find  out  by  the  rude  impact  of  the  thought  of 
those  people  upon  his  reorganized  condition  of  mind, 
how  sharp  the  change  had  been.  He  would  have 
preferred  to  stay  away.  He  expected  that  now  he 
should  hear  nothing  except  sentiments  which  would 
be  a  reproach  to  him  in  his  changed  mental  attitude, 
and  he  rather  wished  he  might  be  excused.  And  yet 
he  didn't  quite  want  to  say  that;  he  didn't  want  to 
show  how  he  did  feel,  or  show  any  disinclination  to 
go ;  and  so  he  forced  himself  to  go  along  with  Barrow, 
privately  purposing  to  take  an  early  opportunity  to 
get  away. 

After  the  essayist  of  the  evening  had  read  his 
paper,  the  chairman  announced  that  the  debate 
would  now  be  upon  the  subject  of  the  previous  meet- 
ing, "The  American  Press."  It  saddened  the  back- 
sliding disciple  to  hear  this  announcement.  It 
brought  up  too  many  reminiscences.  He  wished  he 
had  happened  upon  some  other  subject.  But  the 
debate  began,  and  he  sat  still  and  listened. 

In  the  course  of  the  discussion  one  of  the  speakers 
—  a  blacksmith  named  Tompkins  —  arraigned  all 
monarchs  and  all  lords  on  the  earth  for  their  cold 
selfishness  in  retaining  their  unearned  dignities.  He 
said  that  no  monarch  and  no  son  of  a  monarch,  no 
lord  and  no  son  of  a  lord,  ought  to  be  able  to  look 
his  fellow-man  in  the  face  without  shame.  Shame 
for  consenting  to  keep  his  unearned  titles,  property, 

124 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

and  privileges  at  the  expense  of  other  people;  shame 
for  consenting  to  remain,  on  any  terms,  in  dishonor- 
able possession  of  these  things,  which  represented 
bygone  robberies  and  wrongs  inflicted  upon  the 
general  people  of  the  nation.  He  said:  "If  there 
were  a  lord  or  the  son  of  a  lord  here  I  would  like 
to  reason  with  him,  and  try  to  show  him  how  unfair 
and  how  selfish  his  position  is.  I  would  try  to  per- 
suade him  to  relinquish  it,  take  his  place  among  men 
on  equal  terms,  earn  the  bread  he  eats,  and  hold  of 
slight  value  all  deference  paid  him  because  of  arti- 
ficial position,  all  reverence  not  the  just  due  of  his 
own  personal  merits." 

Tracy  seemed  to  be  listening  to  utterances  of  his 
own  made  in  talks  with  his  radical  friends  in  England. 
It  was  as  if  some  eavesdropping  phonograph  had 
treasured  up  his  words  and  brought  them  across  the 
Atlantic  to  accuse  him  with  them  in  the  hour  of  his 
defection  and  retreat.  Every  word  spoken  by  this 
stranger  seemed  to  leave  a  blister  on  Tracy's  con- 
science, and  by  the  time  the  speech  was  finished  he 
felt  that  he  was  all  conscience  and  one  blister.  This 
man's  deep  compassion  for  the  enslaved  and  op- 
pressed millions  in  Europe  who  had  to  bear  with  the 
contempt  of  that  small  class  above  them,  throned 
upon  shining  heights  whose  paths  were  shut  against 
them,  was  the  very  thing  he  had  often  uttered  him- 
self. The  pity  in  this  man's  voice  and  words  was 
the  very  twin  of  the  pity  that  used  to  reside  in  his 
own  heart  and  come  from  his  own  lips  when  he 
thought  of  these  oppressed  peoples. 

The  homeward  tramp  was  accomplished  in  brood- 
125 


MARK    TWAIN 

ing  silence.  It  was  a  silence  most  grateful  to 
Tracy's  feelings.  He  wouldn't  have  broken  it  for 
anything;  for  he  was  ashamed  of  himself  all  the  way 
through  to  his  spine.  He  kept  saying  to  himself: 

"How  unanswerable  it  all  is — how  absolutely  un- 
answerable! It  is  basely,  degradingly  selfish  to  keep 
those  unearned  honors,  and — and — oh,  hang  it, 
nobody  but  a  cur — " 

"What  an  idiotic  damned  speech  that  Tompkins 
made!" 

This  outburst  was  from  Barrow.  It  flooded 
Tracy's  demoralized  soul  with  waters  of  refreshment. 
These  were  the  darlingest  words  the  poor  vacillating 
young  apostate  had  ever  heard — for  they  white- 
washed his  shame  for  him,  and  that  is  a  good  service 
to  have  when  you  can't  get  the  best  of  all  verdicts: 
self-acquittal. 

"Come  up  to  my  room  and  smoke  a  pipe,  Tracy." 

Tracy  had  been  expecting  this  invitation,  and  had 
had  his  declination  all  ready;  but  he  was  glad  enough 
to  accept  now.  Was  it  possible  that  a  reasonable 
argument  could  be  made  against  that  man's  deso- 
lating speech?  He  was  burning  to  hear  Barrow  try 
it.  He  knew  how  to  start  him  and  keep  him  going; 
it  was  to  seem  to  combat  his  positions — a  process 
effective  with  most  people. 

"What  is  it  you  object  to  in  Tompkins's  speech, 
Barrow?" 

"Oh,  the  leaving  out  of  the  factor  of  human  nature ; 
requiring  another  man  to  do  what  you  wouldn't  do 
yourself." 

"Do  you  mean — " 

126 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"Why,  here's  what  I  mean;  it's  very  simple. 
Tompkins  is  a  blacksmith;  has  a  family;  works  for 
wages;  and  hard,  too — fooling  around  won't  furnish 
the  bread.  Suppose  it  should  turn  out  that  by  the 
death  of  somebody  in  England  he  is  suddenly  an 
earl — income,  half  a  million  dollars  a  year.  What 
would  he  do?" 

"Well,  I — I  suppose  he  would  have  to  decline  to — " 

"Man,  he  would  grab  it  in  a  second!" 

"Do  you  really  think  he  would?" 

"Think?  —  I  don't  think  anything  about  it,  I 
know  it." 

"Why?" 

"Why?    Because  he's  not  a  fool." 

"So  you  think  that  if  he  were  a  fool,  he — " 

"No,  I  don't.  Fool  or  no  fool,  he  would  grab  it. 
Anybody  would.  Anybody  that's  alive.  And  I've 
seen  dead  people  that  would  get  up  and  go  for  it.  I 
would  myself." 

This  was  balm,  this  was  healing,  this  was  rest  and 
peace  and  comfort. 

"But  I  thought  you  were  opposed  to  nobilities?" 

"Transmissible  ones,  yes.  But  that's  nothing. 
I'm  opposed  to  millionaires,  but  it  would  be  danger- 
ous to  offer  me  the  position." 

"You'd  take  it?" 

"I  would  leave  the  funeral  of  my  dearest  enemy  to 
go  and  assume  its  burdens  and  responsibilities." 

Tracy  thought  awhile,  then  said: 

"I  don't  know  that  I  quite  get  the  bearings  of  your 
position.  You  say  you  are  opposed  to  hereditary 
nobilities,  and  yet  if  you  had  the  chance  you  would — " 
9  127 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Take  one?  In  a  minute  I  would.  And  there 
isn't  a  mechanic  in  that  entire  club  that  wouldn't. 
There  isn't  a  lawyer,  doctor,  editor,  author,  tinker, 
loafer,  railroad  president,  saint — land,  there  isn't  a 
human  being  in  the  United  States  that  wouldn't  jump 
at  the  chance!" 

"Except  me,"  said  Tracy,  softly. 

"Except  you!"  Barrow  could  hardly  get  the  words 
out,  his  scorn  so  choked  him.  And  he  couldn't  get 
any  further  than  that  form  of  words;  it  seemed  to 
dam  his  flow  utterly.  He  got  up  and  came  and 
glared  upon  Tracy  in  a  kind  of  outraged  and  unap- 
peasable way,  and  said  again,  "Except  you!"  He 
walked  around  him — inspecting  him  from  one  point 
of  view  and  then  another,  and  relieving  his  soul  now 
and  then  by  exploding  that  formula  at  him:  "Ex- 
cept you!"  Finally  he  slumped  down  into  his  chair 
with  the  air  of  one  who  gives  it  up,  and  said: 

"He's  straining  his  viscera  and  he's  breaking  his 
heart  trying  to  get  some  low-down  job  that  a  good 
dog  wouldn't  have,  and  yet  wants  to  let  on  that  if  he 
had  a  chance  to  scoop  an  earldom  he  wouldn't  do 
it.  Tracy,  don't  put  this  kind  of  a  strain  on  me. 
Lately  I'm  not  as  strong  as  I  was." 

"Well,  I  wasn't  meaning  to  put  a  strain  on  you, 
Barrow;  I  was  only  meaning  to  intimate  that  if  an 
earldom  ever  does  fall  in  my  way — " 

"There — I  wouldn't  give  myself  any  worry  about 
that  if  I  was  you.  And,  besides,  I  can  settle  what  you 
would  do.  Are  you  any  different  from  me?" 

"Well— no."  " 

"Are  you  any  better  than  me?" 
128 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"Oh — er — why,  certainly  not." 

' '  Are  you  as  good  ?    Come ! ' ' 

"Indeed,  I  —  the  fact  is  you  take  me  so  sud- 
denly—" 

"Suddenly?  What  is  there  sudden  about  it?  It 
isn't  a  difficult  question,  is  it?  Or  doubtful?  Just 
measure  us  on  the  only  fair  lines — the  lines  of  merit 
— and  of  course  you'll  admit  that  a  journeyman  chair- 
maker  that  earns  his  twenty  dollars  a  week,  and  has 
had  the  good  and  genuine  culture  of  contact  with 
men,  and  care,  and  hardship,  and  failure,  and  suc- 
cess, and  downs  and  ups  and  ups  and  downs,  is  just 
a  trifle  the  superior  of  a  young  fellow  like  you,  who 
doesn't  know  how  to  do  anything  that's  valuable, 
can't  earn  his  living  in  any  secure  and  steady  way, 
hasn't  had  any  experience  of  life  and  its  seriousness, 
hasn't  any  culture  but  the  artificial  culture  of  books, 
which  adorns  but  doesn't  really  educate — come!  if 
I  wouldn't  scorn  an  earldom,  what  the  devil  right 
have  you  to  do  it?" 

Tracy  dissembled  his  joy,  though  he  wanted  to 
thank  the  chair-maker  for  that  last  remark.  Pres- 
ently a  thought  struck  him,  and  he  spoke  up  briskly 
and  said: 

"But  look  here,  I  really  can't  quite  get  the  hang  of 
your  notions — your  principles,  if  they  are  principles. 
You  are  inconsistent.  You  are  opposed  to  aristocra- 
cies, yet  you'd  take  an  earldom  if  you  could.  Am  I 
to  understand  that  you  don't  blame  an  earl  for  being 
and  remaining  an  earl?" 

"I  certainly  don't." 

"And  you  wouldn't  blame  Tompkins,  or  yourself, 
129 


MARK    TWAIN 

or  me,  or  anybody,  for  accepting  an  earldom  if  it  was 
offered?" 

"Indeed,  I  wouldn't." 

"Well,  then,  whom  would  you  blame?" 

"The  whole  nation — any  bulk  and  mass  of  popu- 
lation anywhere,  in  any  country,  that  will  put  up 
with  the  infamy,  the  outrage,  the  insult  of  a  heredi- 
tary aristocracy  which  they  can't  enter — and  on 
absolutely  free  and  equal  terms." 

"Come,  aren't  you  beclouding  yourself  with  dis- 
tinctions that  are  not  differences?" 

"Indeed,  I  am  not.  I  am  entirely  clear-headed 
about  this  thing.  If  I  could  extirpate  an  aristocratic 
system  by  declining  its  honors,  then  I  should  be  a 
rascal  to  accept  them.  And  if  enough  of  the  mass 
would  join  me  to  make  the  extirpation  possible,  then 
I  should  be  a  rascal  to  do  otherwise  than  help  in  the 
attempt." 

"I  believe  I  understand — yes,  I  think  I  get  the 
idea.  You  have  no  blame  for  the  lucky  few  who  nat- 
urally decline  to  vacate  the  pleasant  nest  they  were 
born  into ;  you  only  despise  the  all-powerful  and  stupid 
mass  of  the  nation  for  allowing  the  nest  to  exist." 

"That's  it,  that's  it!  You  can  get  a  simple  thing 
through  your  head  if  you  work  at  it  long  enough." 

"Thanks." 

"Don't  mention  it.  And  I'll  give  you  some  sound 
advice:  when  you  go  back,  if  you  find  your  nation 
up  and  ready  to  abolish  that  hoary  affront,  lend  a 
hand;  but  if  that  isn't  the  state  of  things  and  you 
get  a  chance  at  an  earldom,  don't  you  be  a  fool — 
you  take  it." 

130 


Tracy  responded  with  earnestness  and  enthusiasm : 

"As  I  live,  I'lldoit!" 

Barrow  laughed. 

' '  I  never  saw  such  a  fellow.  I  begin  to  think  you've 
got  a  good  deal  of  imagination.  With  you,  the  idlest 
fancy  freezes  into  a  reality  at  a  breath.  Why,  you 
looked,  then,  as  if  it  wouldn't  astonish  you  if  you  did 
tumble  into  an  earldom."  Tracy  blushed.  Barrow 
added:  "Earldom!  Oh,  yes,  take  it  if  it  offers;  but 
meantime  we'll  go  on  looking  around,  in  a  modest 
way,  and  if  you  get  a  chance  to  superintend  a  sausage- 
stuffer  at  six  or  eight  dollars  a  week,  you  just  trade 
off  the  earldom  for  a  last  year's  almanac  and  stick 
to  the  sausage-stuffing." 


CHAPTER  XV 

went  to  bed  happy  once  more,  at  rest  in 
1  his  mind  once  more.  He  had  started  out  on  a 
high  emprise — that  was  to  his  credit,  he  argued;  he 
had  fought  the  best  fight  he  could,  considering  the 
odds  against  him — that  was  to  his  credit;  he  had 
been  defeated — certainly  there  was  nothing  discredit- 
able in  that.  Being  defeated,  he  had  a  right  to 
retire  with  the  honors  of  war  and  go  back  without 
prejudice  to  the  position  in  the  world's  society  to 
which  he  had  been  born.  Why  not  ?  Even  the  rabid 
republican  chair-maker  would  do  that.  Yes,  his  con- 
science was  comfortable  once  more. 

He  woke  refreshed,  happy,  and  eager  for  his  cable- 
gram. He  had  been  born  an  aristocrat,  he  had  been  a 
democrat  for  a  time,  he  was  now  an  aristocrat  again. 
He  marveled  to  find  that  this  final  change  was  not 
merely  intellectual,  it  had  invaded  his  feeling;  and  he 
also  marveled  to  note  that  this  feeling  seemed  a  good 
deal  less  artificial  than  any  he  had  entertained  in  his 
system  for  a  long  time.  He  could  also  have  noted,  if 
he  had  thought  of  it,  that  his  bearing  had  stiffened 
overnight,  and  that  his  chin  had  lifted  itself  a  shade. 
Arrived  in  the  basement,  he  was  about  to  enter  the 
breakfast-room  when  he  saw  old  Marsh  in  the  dim 
light  of  a  corner  of  the  hall,  beckoning  him  with  his 

132 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

finger  to  approach.  The  blood  welled  slowly  up  in 
Tracy's  cheek,  and  he  said,  with  a  grade  of  injured 
dignity  almost  ducal: 

"Is  that  for  me?" 

"Yes." 

"What  is  the  purpose  of  it?" 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you — in  private." 

This  spot  is  private  enough  for  me." 

Marsh  was  surprised ;  and  not  particularly  pleased. 
He  approached  and  said: 

"Oh,  in  public,  then,  if  you  prefer.  Though  it 
hasn't  been  my  way." 

The  boarders  gathered  to  the  spot,  interested. 

' '  Speak  out, ' '  said  Tracy.    ' '  What  is  it  you  want  ?" 

"Well,  haven't  you — er — forgot  something?" 

"I?    I'm  not  aware  of  it." 

"Oh,  you're  not?  Now  you  stop  and  think  a 
minute." 

"I  refuse  to  stop  and  think.  It  doesn't  interest 
me.  If  it  interests  you,  speak  out." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Marsh,  raising  his  voice  to  a 
slightly  angry  pitch,  "you  forgot  to  pay  your  board 
yesterday — if  you're  bound  to  have  it  public." 

Oh,  yes;  this  heir  to  an  annual  million  or  so  had 
been  dreaming  and  soaring,  and  had  forgotten  that 
pitiful  three  or  four  dollars.  For  penalty  he  must 
have  it  coarsely  flung  in  his  face  in  the  presence  of 
these  people — people  in  whose  countenances  was 
already  beginning  to  dawn  an  uncharitable  enjoy- 
ment of  the  situation. 

"Is  that  all!  Take  your  money  and  give  your 
terrors  a  rest." 


MARK    TWAIN 

Tracy's  hand  went  down  into  his  pocket  with  angry 
decision.  But — it  didn't  come  out.  The  color  began 
to  ebb  out  of  his  face.  The  countenances  about  him 
showed  a  growing  interest;  and  some  of  them  a 
heightened  satisfaction.  There  was  an  uncomfortable 
pause;  then  he  forced  out,  with  difficulty,  the  words: 

"I've— been  robbed!" 

Old  Marsh's  eyes  flamed  up  with  Spanish  fire,  and 
he  exclaimed: 

"Robbed,  is  it?  That's  your  tune?  It's  too  old — 
been  played  in  this  house  too  often;  everybody  plays 
it  that  can't  get  work  when  he  wants  it,  and  won't 
work  when  he  can  get  it.  Trot  out  Mr.  Allen,  some- 
body, and  let  him  take  a  toot  at  it.  It's  his  turn  next ; 
he  forgot,  too,  last  night.  I'm  laying  for  him." 

One  of  the  negro  women  came  scrambling  down 
stairs  as  pale  as  a  sorrel  horse  with  consternation  and 
excitement: 

"Misto  Marsh.  Misto  Allen's  skipped  out!" 

"What!" 

"Yes-sah,  and  cleaned  out  his  room  clean;  tuck 
bofe  towels  en  de  soap!" 

"You  lie,  you  hussy!" 

"It's  jes'  so,  jes'  as  I  tells  you — en  Misto  Sumner's 
socks  is  gone,  en  Misto  Naylor's  yuther  shirt." 

Mr.  Marsh  was  at  boiling-point  by  this  time.  He 
turned  upon  Tracy. 

"Answer  up  now — when  are  you  going  to  settle?" 

"To-day — since  you  seem  to  be  in  a  hurry." 

"To-day,  is  it?  Sunday — and  you  out  of  work? 
I  like  that.  Come — where  are  you  going  to  get  the 
money?" 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

Tracy's  spirit  was  rising  again.  He  proposed  to 
impress  these  people. 

"I  am  expecting  a  cablegram  from  home." 

Old  Marsh  was  caught  out,  with  the  surprise  of  it. 
The  idea  was  so  immense,  so  extravagant,  that  he 
couldn't  get  his  breath  at  first.  When  he  did  get  it, 
it  came  rancid  with  sarcasm. 

"A  cablegram — think  of  it,  ladies  and  gents,  he's 
expecting  a  cablegram!  He's  expecting  a  cablegram 
— this  duffer,  this  scrub,  this  bilk !  From  his  father — 
eh?  Yes — without  a  doubt.  A  dollar  or  two  a  word 
— oh,  that's  nothing — they  don't  mind  a  little  thing 
like  that — this  kind's  fathers  don't.  Now  his  father 
is — er — well,  I  reckon  his  father — " 

"My  father  is  an  English  earl!" 

The  crowd  fell  back  aghast — aghast  at  the  sublim- 
ity of  the  young  loafer's  "cheek."  Then  they  burst 
into  a  laugh  that  made  the  windows  rattle.  Tracy 
was  too  angry  to  realize  that  he  had  done  a  foolish 
thing.  He  said: 

"Stand  aside,  please.    I — " 

"Wait  a  minute,  your  lordship,"  said  Marsh,  bow- 
ing low;  "where  is  your  lordship  going?" 

"For  the  cablegram.    Let  me  pass." 

"Excuse  me,  your  lordship,  you'll  stay  right  where 
you  are." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"I  mean  that  I  didn't  begin  to  keep  boarding-house 
yesterday.  It  means  that  I  am  not  the  kind  that  can 
be  taken  in  by  every  hack-driver's  son  that  comes 
loafing  over  here  because  he  can't  bum  a  living  at 
home.  It  means  that  you  can't  skip  out  on  any  such — ' ' 


MARK    TWAIN 

Tracy  made  a  step  toward  the  old  man,  but  Mrs. 
Marsh  sprang  between,  and  said: 

"Don't,  Mr.  Tracy,  please."  She  turned  to  her 
husband  and  said, ' '  Do  bridle  your  tongue.  What  has 
he  done  to  be  treated  so  ?  Can't  you  see  he  has  lost  his 
mind  with  trouble  and  distress  ?  He's  not  responsible. ' ' 

"Thank  your  kind  heart,  madam,  but  I've  not  lost 
my  mind;  and  if  I  can  have  the  mere  privilege  of 
stepping  to  the  telegraph-office — " 

"Well,  you  can't!"  cried  Marsh. 

" — or  sending — " 

' '  Sending !  That  beats  everything.  If  there's  any- 
body that's  fool  enough  to  go  on  such  a  chuckle- 
headed  errand — " 

"Here  comes  Mr.  Barrow — he  will  go  for  me. 
Barrow — " 

A  brisk  fire  of  exclamation  broke  out: 

"Say,  Barrow,  he's  expecting  a  cablegram!" 

"Cablegram  from  his  father,  you  know!" 

"Yes — cablegram  from  the  wax-rigger!" 

"And  say,  Barrow,  this  fellow's  an  earl — take  off 
your  hat,  pull  down  your  vest!" 

"Yes,  he's  come  off  and  forgot  his  crown  that  he 
wears  Sundays.  He's  cabled  over  to  his  poppy  to 
send  it." 

"You  step  out  and  get  that  cablegram,  Barrow; 
his  majesty's  a  little  lame  to-day." 

"Oh,  stop,"  cried  Barrow;  "give  the  man  a 
chance."  He  turned,  and  said  with  some  severity: 
"Tracy,  what's  the  matter  with  you?  What  kind  of 
foolishness  is  this  you've  been  talking  ?  You  ought  to 
have  more  sense." 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"I've  not  been  talking  foolishness;  and  if  you'll  go 
to  the  telegraph-office — " 

"Oh,  don't  talk  so.  I'm  your  friend  in  trouble  and 
out  of  it,  before  your  face  and  behind  your  back,  for 
anything  in  reason:  but  you've  lost  your  head,  you 
see,  and  this  moonshine  about  a  cablegram — " 

"/'//  go  there  and  ask  for  it!" 

"Thank  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  Brady. 
Here,  I'll  give  you  a  written  order  for  it.  Fly  now 
and  fetch  it.  We'll  soon  see!" 

Brady  flew.  Immediately  the  sort  of  quiet  began 
to  steal  over  the  crowd  which  means  dawning  doubt, 
misgiving;  and  might  be  translated  into  the  words, 
"Maybe  he  is  expecting  a  cablegram — maybe  he  has 
got  a  father  somewhere — maybe  we've  been  just  a 
little  too  fresh,  just  a  shade  too  'previous'!"  Loud 
talk  ceased;  then  the  mutterings  and  low  murmur- 
ings  and  whisperings  died  out.  The  crowd  began  to 
crumble  apart.  By  ones  and  twos  the  fragments 
drifted  to  the  breakfast-table.  Barrow  tried  to  bring 
Tracy  in;  but  he  said: 

"Not  yet,  Barrow — presently." 

Mrs.  Marsh  and  Hattie  tried,  offering  gentle  and 
kindly  persuasions;  but  he  said: 

"I  would  rather  wait — till  he  comes." 

Even  old  Marsh  began  to  have  suspicions  that 
maybe  he  had  been  a  trifle  too  "brash,"  as  he  called 
it  in  the  privacy  of  his  soul,  and  he  pulled  himself 
together  and  started  toward  Tracy  with  invitation 
in  his  eyes ;  but  Tracy  warned  him  off  with  a  gesture 
which  was  quite  positive  and  eloquent.  Then  fol- 
lowed the  stillest  quarter  of  an  hour  which  had  ever 


MARK    TWAIN 

been  known  in  that  house  at  that  time  of  day.  It 
was  so  still,  and  so  solemn  withal,  that  when  some- 
body's cup  slipped  from  his  fingers  and  landed  in  his 
plate  the  shock  made  people  start,  and  the  sharp 
sound  seemed  as  indecorous  there  and  as  out  of  place 
as  if  a  coffin  and  mourners  were  imminent  and  being 
waited  for.  And  at  last  when  Brady's  feet  came  clat- 
tering down  the  stairs  the  sacrilege  seemed  unbear- 
able. Everybody  rose  softly  and  turned  toward  the 
door,  where  stood  Tracy;  then,  with  a  common  im- 
pulse, moved  a  step  or  two  in  that  direction,  and 
stopped.  While  they  gazed  young  Brady  arrived, 
panting,  and  put  into  Tracy's  hand — sure  enough — 
an  envelope.  Tracy  fastened  a  bland,  victorious  eye 
upon  the  gazers,  and  kept  it  there  till  one  by  one 
they  dropped  their  eyes,  vanquished  and  embar- 
rassed. Then  he  tore  open  the  telegram  and  glanced 
at  its  message.  The  yellow  paper  fell  from  his 
fingers  and  fluttered  to  the  floor,  and  his  face 
turned  white.  There  was  nothing  there  but  one 
word: 

"Thanks." 

The  humorist  of  the  house,  the  tall,  raw-boned 
Billy  Nash,  caulker  from  the  navy  yard,  was  standing 
in  the  rear  of  the  crowd.  In  the  midst  of  the  pathetic 
silence  that  was  now  brooding  over  the  place  and 
moving  some  few  hearts  there  toward  compassion, 
he  began  to  whimper,  then  he  put  his  handkerchief  to 
his  eyes  and  buried  his  face  in  the  neck  of  the  bashf ul- 
est  young  fellow  in  the  company,  a  navy-yard  black- 
smith, shrieked,  "Oh,  pappy,  how  could  you!"  and 
began  to  bawl  like  a  teething  baby,  if  one  may 

138 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

imagine  a  baby  with  the  energy  and  the  devastating 
voice  of  a  jackass. 

So  perfect  was  the  imitation  of  a  child's  cry,  and  so 
vast  the  scale  of  it,  and  so  ridiculous  the  aspect  of 
the  performer,  that  all  gravity  was  swept  from  the 
place  as  if  by  a  hurricane,  and  almost  everybody 
there  joined  in  the  crash  of  laughter  provoked  by  the 
exhibition.  Then  the  small  mob  began  to  take  its 
revenge — revenge  for  the  discomfort  and  apprehen- 
sion it  had  brought  upon  itself  by  its  own  too  rash 
freshness  of  a  little  while  before.  It  guyed  its  poor 
victim,  baited  him,  worried  him,  as  dogs  do  with  a 
cornered  cat.  The  victim  answered  back  with  defi- 
ances and  challenges  which  included  everybody,  and 
which  only  gave  the  sport  new  spirit  and  variety; 
but  when  he  changed  his  tactics  and  began  to  single 
out  individuals  and  invite  them  by  name,  the  fun 
lost  its  funniness  and  the  interest  of  the  show  died 
out,  along  with  the  noise. 

Finally  Marsh  was  about  to  take  an  innings,  but 
Barrow  said : 

"Never  mind  now — leave  him  alone.  You've  no 
account  with  him  but  a  money  account.  I'll  take 
care  of  that  myself." 

The  distressed  and  worried  landlady  gave  Barrow  a 
fervently  grateful  look  for  his  championship  of  the 
abused  stranger;  and  the  pet  of  the  house,  a  very 
prism  in  her  cheap  but  ravishing  Sunday  rig,  blew 
him  a  kiss  from  the  tips  of  her  fingers  and  said,  with 
the  darlingest  smile  and  a  sweet  little  toss  of  her  head : 

"You're  the  only  man  here,  and  I'm  going  to  set 
my  cap  for  you,  you  dear  old  thing!" 

139 


MARK    TWAIN 

"For  shame,  Puss!  How  you  talk!  I  never  saw 
such  a  child!" 

It  took  a  good  deal  of  argument  and  persuasion — 
that  is  to  say,  petting,  under  these  disguises — to  get 
Tracy  to  entertain  the  idea  of  breakfast.  He  at  first 
said  he  would  never  eat  again  in  that  house;  and 
added  that  he  had  enough  firmness  of  character,  he 
trusted,  to  enable  him  to  starve  like  a  man  when  the 
alternative  was  to  eat  insult  with  his  bread. 

When  he  had  finished  his  breakfast,  Barrowtook  him 
to  his  room,  furnished  him  a  pipe,  and  said,  cheerily : 

"Now,  old  fellow,  take  in  your  battle-flag  out  of 
the  wet;  you're  not  in  the  hostile  camp  any  more. 
You're  a  little  upset  by  your  troubles,  and  that's 
natural  enough,  but  don't  let  your  mind  run  on  them 
any  more  than  you  can  help;  drag  your  thoughts 
away  from  your  troubles — by  the  ears,  by  the  heels, 
or  any  other  way,  so  you  manage  it ;  it's  the  healthi- 
est thing  a  body  can  do;  dwelling  on  troubles  is 
deadly,  just  deadly — and  that's  the  softest  name 
there  is  for  it.  You  must  keep  your  mind  amused — 
you  must,  indeed." 

"Oh,  miserable  me!" 

"Don't!  There's  just  pure  heart-break  in  that 
tone.  It's  just  as  I  say;  you've  got  to  get  right  down 
to  it  and  amuse  your  mind,  as  if  it  was  salvation." 

"They're  easy  words  to  say,  Barrow,  but  how  am 
I  going  to  amuse,  entertain,  divert  a  mind  that  finds 
itself  suddenly  assaulted  and  overwhelmed  by  disas- 
ter of  a  sort  not  dreamed  of  and  not  provided  for? 
No-no,  the  bare  idea  of  amusement  is  repulsive  to  my 
feelings.  Let  us  talk  of  deaths  and  funerals." 

140 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"No — not  yet.  That  would  be  giving  up  the  ship. 
We'll  not  give  up  the  ship  yet.  I'm  going  to  amuse 
you;  I  sent  Brady  out  for  the  wherewithal  before  you 
finished  breakfast." 

"You  did?    What  is  it?" 

"Come,  this  is  a  good  sign — curiosity.  Oh,  there's 
hope  for  you  yet." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

BRADY  arrived  with  a  box,  and  departed,  after 
saying: 

"They're  finishing  one  up,  but  they'll  be  along  as 
soon  as  it's  done." 

Barrow  took  a  frameless  oil  portrait  a  foot  square 
from  the  box,  set  it  up  in  a  good  light,  without  com- 
ment, and  reached  for  another,  taking  a  fugitive 
glance  at  Tracy  meantime.  The  stony  solemnity  in 
Tracy's  face  remained  as  it  was,  and  gave  out  no  sign 
of  interest.  Barrow  placed  the  second  portrait  beside 
the  first,  and  stole  another  glance  while  reaching  for 
a  third.  The  stone  image  softened  a  shade.  No.  3 
forced  the  ghost  of  a  smile,  No.  4  swept  indifference 
wholly  away,  and  No.  5  started  a  laugh  which  was 
still  in  good  and  hearty  condition  when  No.  14  took 
its  place  in  the  row. 

"Oh,  you're  all  right  yet,"  said  Barrow.  "You 
see,  you're  not  past  amusement." 

The  pictures  were  fearful  as  to  color,  and  atrocious 
as  to  drawing  and  expression;  but  the  feature  which 
squelched  animosity  and  made  them  funny  was  a 
feature  which  could  not  achieve  its  full  force  in  a 
single  picture,  but  required  the  wonder-working  as- 
sistance of  repetition.  One  loudly  dressed  mechanic 
in  stately  attitude,  with  his  hand  on  a  cannon,  ashore, 

142 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

and  a  ship  riding  at  anchor  in  the  offing — this  is 
merely  odd;  but  when  one  sees  the  same  cannon  and 
the  same  ship  in  fourteen  pictures  in  a  row,  and  a 
different  mechanic  standing  watch  in  each,  the  thing 
gets  to  be  funny. 

"Explain — explain  these  aberrations,"  said  Tracy. 

"Well,  they  are  not  the  achievement  of  a  single 
intellect,  a  single  talent — it  takes  two  to  do  these 
miracles.  They  are  collaborations;  the  one  artist 
does  the  figure,  the  other  the  accessories.  The 
figure-artist  is  a  German  shoemaker  with  an  untaught 
passion  for  art,  the  other  is  a  simple-hearted  old 
Yankee  sailor-man  whose  possibilities  are  strictly 
limited  to  his  ship,  his  cannon,  and  his  patch  of 
petrified  sea.  They  work  these  things  up  from  twen- 
ty-five cent  tintypes;  they  get  six  dollars  apiece  for 
them,  and  they  can  grind  out  a  couple  a  day  when  they 
strike  what  they  call  a  boost — that  is,  an  inspiration." 

"People  actually  pay  money  for  these  calumnies?" 

"They  actually  do — and  quite  willingly,  too.  And 
these  abortionists  could  double  their  trade  and  work 
the  women  in  if  Captain  Saltmarsh  could  whirl  a 
horse  in,  or  a  piano,  or  a  guitar,  in  place  of  his 
cannon.  The  fact  is,  he  fatigues  the  market  with 
that  cannon.  Even  the  male  market,  I  mean.  These 
fourteen  in  the  procession  are  not  all  satisfied.  One 
is  an  old  "independent"  fireman,  and  he  wants  an 
engine  in  place  of  the  cannon;  another  is  a  mate  of  a 
tug,  and  wants  a  tug  in  place  of  the  ship — and  so  on, 
and  so  on.  But  the  captain  can't  make  a  tug  that  is 
deceptive,  and  a  fire-engine  is  many  flights  beyond 
his  power." 

10  143 


MARK    TWAIN" 

< 

"This  is  a  most  extraordinary  form  of  robbery.  I 
never  have  heard  of  anything  like  it.  It's  interest- 
ing." 

"Yes,  and  so  are  the  artists.  They  are  perfectly 
honest  men,  and  sincere.  And  the  old  sailor-man  is 
full  of  sound  religion,  and  is  as  devoted  a  student  of 
the  Bible  and  misquoter  of  it  as  you  can  find  any- 
where. I  don't  know  a  better  man  or  kinder-hearted 
old  soul  than  Saltmarsh,  although  he  does  swear  a 
little  sometimes." 

"He  seems  to  be  perfect.  I  want  to  know  him, 
Barrow." 

' '  You'll  have  tne  chance.  I  guess  I  hear  them  com- 
ing now.  We'll  draw  them  out  on  their  art,  if  you  like. 

The  artists  arrived  and  shook  hands  with  great 
heartiness.  The  German  was  forty  and  a  little 
fleshy,  with  a  shiny  bald  head  and  a  kindly  face  and 
deferential  manner.  Captain  Saltmarsh  was  sixty, 
tall,  erect,  powerfully  built,  with  coal-black  hair  and 
whiskers,  and  he  had  a  well-tanned  complexion,  and 
a  gait  and  countenance  that  were  full  of  command, 
confidence,  and  decision.  His  horny  hands  and  wrists 
were  covered  with  tattoo-marks,  and  when  his  lips 
parted  his  teeth  showed  up  white  and  blemishless. 
His  voice  was  the  effortless  deep  bass  of  a  church 
organ,  and  would  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  a  gas 
flame  fifty  yards  away. 

"They're  wonderful  pictures,"  said  Barrow. 
"We've  been  examining  them." 

"It  is  very  bleasant  dot  you  like  dem,"  said  Han- 

fdel,  the  German,  greatly  pleased.     "Und  you,  Herr 

Tracy,  you  haf  peen  bleased  mit  dem,  too,  alretty?" 

144 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"I  can  honestly  say  I  have  never  seen  anything 
just  like  them  before." 

"Schon!"  cried  the  German,  delighted.  "You 
hear,  Captain?  Here  is  a  chentleman,  yes,  vot  abbre- 
ciate  unser  aart." 

The  Captain  was  charmed,  and  said : 

"Well,  sir,  we're  thankful  for  a  compliment  yet, 
though  they're  not  as  scarce  now  as  they  used  to  be 
before  we  made  a  reputation." 

"Getting  the  reputation  is  the  uphill  time  in  most 
things,  Captain." 

"It's  so.  It  ain't  enough  to  know  how  to  reef  a 
gasket,  you  got  to  make  the  mate  know  you  know  it. 
That's  reputation.  The  good  word,  said  at  the  right 
time,  that's  the  word  that  makes  us;  and  evil  be  to 
him  that  evil  thinks,  as  Isaiah  says." 

"It's  very  relevant,  and  hits  the  point  exactly," 
said  Tracy.  "Where  did  you  study  art,  Captain?" 

"I  haven't  studied;  it's  a  natural  gift." 

"He  is  born  mit  dose  cannon  in  him.  He  tondt 
haf  to  do  noding,  his  chenius  do  all  de  vork.  Of  he  is 
asleep,  und  take  a  pencil  in  his  hand,  out  come  a 
cannon.  Py  crashus,  of  he  could  do  a  clavier,  of  he 
could  do  a  guitar,  of  he  could  do  a  vash-tub,  it  is  a 
fortune;  heiliger  Yohanniss,  it  is  yoost  a  fortune!" 

"Well,  it  is  an  immense  pity  that  the  business  is 
hindered  and  limited  in  this  unfortunate  way." 

The  Captain  grew  a  trifle  excited  himself  now. 

"You've  said  it,  Mr.  Tracy!  Hindered?  well,  I 
should  say  so.  Why,  look  here.  This  fellow  here, 
No.  n,  he's  a  hackman — a  flourishing  hackman,  I 
may  say.  He  wants  his  hack  in  this  picture.  Wants 

US 


MARK    TWAIN 

it  where  the  cannon  is.  I  got  around  that  difficulty 
by  telling  him  the  cannon's  our  trade-mark,  so  to 
speak — proves  that  the  picture's  our  work,  and  I  was 
afraid  if  we  left  it  out  people  wouldn't  know  for 
certain  if  it  was  a  Saltmarsh-Handel — now  you 
wouldn't  yourself — " 

' '  What,  Captain  ?  You  wrong  yourself,  indeed  you 
do.  Any  one  who  has  once  seen  a  genuine  Saltmarsh- 
Handel  is  safe  from  imposture  forever.  Strip  it,  flay 
it,  skin  it  out  of  every  detail  but  the  bare  color  and 
expression,  and  that  man  will  still  recognize  it,  still 
stop  to  worship — " 

"Oh,  how  it  makes  me  feel  to  hear  dose  expres- 
sions!" 

— "still  say  to  himself  again,  as  he  had  said  a  hun- 
dred times  before,  the  art  of  the  Saltmarsh-Handel  is 
an  art  apart;  there  is  nothing  in  the  heavens  above  or 
in  the  earth  beneath  that  resembles  it — " 

' '  Py  chiminy ,  nur  horen  Sie  einmal !  In  my  life  day 
haf  I  never  heard  so  brecious  worts." 

"So  I  talked  him  out  of  the  hack,  Mr.  Tracy,  and 
he  let  up  on  that,  and  said  put  in  a  hearse,  then — 
because  he's  chief  mate  of  a  hearse,  but  don't  own 
it — stands  a  watch  for  wages,  you  know.  But  I  can't 
do  a  hearse  any  more  than  I  can  a  hack;  so  here  we 
are — becalmed,  you  see.  And  it's  the  same  with 
women  and  such.  They  come  and  they  want  a  little 
johnry  picture — " 

"It's  the  accessories  that  make  it  a  genre  f " 

"Yes — cannon,  or  cat,  or  any  little  thing  like  that, 
that  you  heave  in  to  whoop  up  the  effect.  We  could 
do  a  prodigious  trade  with  the  women  if  we  could 

146 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

foreground  the  things  they  like,  but  they  don't  give 
a  damn  for  artillery.  Mine's  the  lack,"  continued  the 
Captain,  with  a  sigh.  "Andy's  end  of  the  business  is 
all  right — I  tell  you,  he's  an  artist  from  way  back!" 

"Yoost  hear  dot  old  man!  He  always  talk  'poud 
me  like  dot,"  purred  she  pleased  German. 

' '  Look  at  his  work  yourself !  Fourteen  portraits  in 
a  row.  And  no  two  of  them  alike." 

"Now  that  you  speak  of  it,  it  is  true;  I  hadn't 
noticed  it  before.  It  is  very  remarkable.  Unique,  I 
suppose." 

"I  should  say  so.  That's  the  very  thing  about 
Andy — he  discriminates.  Discrimination's  the  thief 
of  time — forty-ninth  Psalm;  but  that  ain't  any  mat- 
ter; it's  the  honest  thing,  and  it  pays  in  the  end." 

"Yes,  he  certainly  is  great  in  that  feature,  one  is 
obliged  to  admit  it;  but — now  mind,  I'm  not  really 
criticizing — don't  you  think  he  is  just  a  trifle  over- 
strong  in  technique?" 

The  Captain's  face  was  knocked  expressionless  by 
this  remark.  It  remained  quite  vacant  while  he 
muttered  to  himself:  "Technique — technique — poly- 
technique —  pyrotechnique;  that's  it,  likely  —  fire- 
works— too  much  color."  Then  he  spoke  up  with 
serenity  and  confidence,  and  said:  ' 

"Well,  yes,  he  does  pile  it  on  pretty  loud;  but  they 
all  like  it,  you  know — fact  is,  it's  the  life  of  the  busi- 
ness. Take  that  No.  9  there — Evans  the  butcher. 
He  drops  into  the  stoodio  as  sober-colored  as  any- 
thing you  ever  see;  now  look  at  him.  You  can't  tell 
him  from  scarlet-fever.  Well,  it  pleases  that  butcher 
to  death.  I'm  making  a  study  of  a  sausage- wreath  to 


MARK    TWAIN 

hang  on  the  cannon,  and  I  don't  really  reckon  I  can 
do  it  right;  but  if  I  can,  we  can  break  the  butcher." 

"Unquestionably  your  confederate — I  mean  your 
— your  fellow-craftsman — is  a  great  colorist — " 

"Oh,  dankeschon!— " 

— "in  fact,  a  quite  extraordinary  colorist;  a  color- 
ist, I  make  bold  to  say,  without  imitator  here  or 
abroad — and  with  a  most  bold  and  effective  touch,  a 
touch  like  a  battering-ram,  and  a  manner  so  peculiar 
and  romantic  and  extraneous  and  ad  libitum  and 
heart-searching  that — that — he — he  is  an  impression- 
ist, I  presume?" 

"No,"  said  the  Captain,  simply,  "he  is  a  Presby- 
terian." 

"It  accounts  for  it  all — all — there's  something 
divine  about  his  art — soulful,  unsatisfactory,  yearn- 
ing, dim-hearkening  on  the  void  horizon,  vague- 
murmuring,  to  the  spirit  out  of  ultra-marine  dis- 
tances and  far-sounding  cataclysms  of  uncreated 
space — oh,  if  he — if  he — has  he  ever  tried  distemper?" 

The  Captain  answered  up,  with  energy : 

' '  Not  if  he  knows  himself !    But  his  dog  has,  and — '  * 

"Oh,  no,  it  vas  not  my  dog." 

"Why,  you  said  it  was  your  dog." 

"Oh,  no,  Captain,  I—" 

"It  was  a  white  dog,  wasn't  it,  with  his  tail  docked, 
and  one  ear  gone,  and — 

"Dot's  him,  dot's  him! — der  fery  dog.  Wy,  py 
Chorge,  dot  dog  he  vould  eat  baint  yoost  de  same 
like—" 

"Well,  never  mind  that  now — Vast  heaving — I 
never  saw  such  a  man.  You  start  him  on  that  dog 

148 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 


and  he'll  dispute  a  year.     Blamed  if  I 

him  keep  it  up  a  level  two  hours  and  a  half." 

"Why,  Captain!"  said  Barrow.  "I  guess  that 
must  be  hearsay." 

"No,  sir,  no  hearsay  about  it  —  he  disputed  with 
me." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  stood  it." 

"Oh,  you've  got  to  —  if  you  run  with  Andy.  But 
it's  the  only  fault  he's  got." 

"Ain't  you  afraid  of  acquiring  it?" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  the  Captain,  tranquilly;  "no 
danger  of  that,  I  reckon." 

The  artists  presently  took  their  leave.  Then  Bar- 
row put  his  hands  on  Tracy's  shoulders  and  said: 

"Look  me  in  the  eye,  my  boy.  Steady,  steady. 
There  —  it's  just  as  I  thought  —  hoped,  anyway; 
you're  all  right,  thank  goodness.  Nothing  the  matter 
with  your  mind.  But  don't  do  that  again  —  even  for 
fun.  It  isn't  wise.  They  wouldn't  have  believed 
you  if  you'd  been  an  earl's  son.  Why,  they  couldn't  — 
don't  you  know  that?  What  ever  possessed  you  to 
take  such  a  freak?  But  never  mind  about  that;  let's 
not  talk  of  it.  It  was  a  mistake;  you  see  that  your- 
self." 

"Yes  —  it  was  a  mistake." 

"Well,  just  drop  it  out  of  your  mind;  it's  no  harm; 
we  all  make  them.  Pull  your  courage  together,  and 
don't  brood,  and  don't  give  up.  I'm  at  your  back, 
and  we'll  pull  through,  don't  you  be  afraid." 

When  he  was  gone,  Barrow  walked  the  floor  a  good 
while,  uneasy  in  his  mind.  He  said  to  himself,  "I'm 
troubled  about  him.  He  never  would  have  made  a 

149 


MARK    TWAIN 

break  like  that  if  he  hadn't  been  a  little  off  his  bal- 
ance. But  I  know  what  being  out  of  work  and  no 
prospect  ahead  can  do  for  a  man.  First  it  knocks  the 
pluck  out  of  him  and  drags  his  pride  in  the  dirt; 
worry  does  the  rest,  and  his  mind  gets  shaky.  I 
must  talk  to  these  people.  No — if  there's  any  hu- 
manity in  them — and  there  is,  at  bottom — they'll  be 
easier  on  him  if  they  think  his  troubles  have  disturbed 
his  reason.  But  I've  got  to  find  him  some  work; 
work's  the  only  medicine  for  his  disease.  Poor  devil! 
away  off  here,  and  not  a  friend." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  moment  Tracy  was  alone  his  spirits  vanished 
away,  and  all  the  misery  of  his  situation  was 
manifest  to  him.  To  be  moneyless  and  an  object  of 
the  chair-maker's  charity — this  was  bad  enough;  but 
his  folly  in  proclaiming  himself  an  earl's  son  to  that 
scoffing  and  unbelieving  crew,  and,  on  top  of  that,  the 
humiliating  result — the  recollection  of  these  things 
was  a  sharper  torture  still.  He  made  up  his  mind  that 
he  would  never  play  earl's  son  again  before  a  doubtful 
audience. 

His  father's  answer  was  a  blow  he  could  not  under- 
stand. At  times  he  thought  his  father  imagined  he 
could  get  work  to  do  in  America  without  any  trouble, 
and  was  minded  to  let  him  try  it  and  cure  himself  of 
his  radicalism  by  hard,  cold,  disenchanting  experi- 
ence. That  seemed  the  most  plausible  theory,  yet 
he  could  not  content  himself  with  it.  A  theory  that 
pleased  him  better  was  that  this  cablegram  would 
be  followed  by  another,  of  a  gentler  sort,  requiring 
him  to  come  home.  Should  he  write  and  strike  his 
flag  and  ask  for  a  ticket  home?  Oh,  no;  that  he 
couldn't  ever  do — at  least,  not  yet.  That  cablegram 
would  come,  it  certainly  would.  So  he  went  from 
one  telegraph-office  to  another  every  day  for  nearly 
a  week,  and  asked  if  there  was  a  cablegram  for  How- 


MARK    TWAIN 

ard  Tracy.  No,  there  wasn't  any.  So  they  answered 
him  at  first.  Later,  they  said  it  before  he  had  a 
chance  to  ask.  Later  still  they  merely  shook  their 
heads  impatiently  as  soon  as  he  came  in  sight.  After 
that  he  was  ashamed  to  go  any  more. 

He  was  down  in  the  lowest  depths  of  despair  now, 
for  the  harder  Barrow  tried  to  find  work  for  him  the 
more  hopeless  the  possibilities  seemed  to  grow.  At 
last  he  said  to  Barrow: 

' '  Look  here.  I  want  to  make  a  confession.  I  have 
got  down  now  to  where  I  am  not  only  willing  to 
acknowledge  to  myself  that  I  am  a  shabby  creature 
and  full  of  false  pride,  but  am  willing  to  acknowledge 
it  to  you.  Well,  I've  been  allowing  you  to  wear 
yourself  out  hunting  for  work  for  me  when  there's 
been  a  chance  open  to  me  all  the  time.  Forgive  my 
pride — what  was  left  of  it.  It  is  all  gone  now,  and 
I've  come  to  confess  that  if  those  ghastly  artists  want 
another  confederate  I'm  their  man — for  at  last  I  am 
dead  to  shame." 

"No?    Really,  can  you  paint?" 

"Not  as  badly  as  they.  No,  I  don't  claim  that,  for 
I  am  not  a  genius;  in  fact,  I  am  a  very  indifferent 
amateur,  a  slouchy  dabster,  a  mere  artistic  sarcasm; 
but  drunk  or  asleep  I  can  beat  those  buccaneers." 

"Shake!  I  want  to  shout!  Oh,  I  tell  you,  I  am 
immensely  delighted  and  relieved.  Oh,  just  to  work 
— that  is  life !  No  matter  what  the  work  is — that's 
of  no  consequence.  Just  work  itself  is  bliss  when  a 
man's  been  starving  for  it.  I've  been  there!  Come 
right  along,  we'll  hunt  the  old  boys  up.  Don't  you 
feel  good?  I  tell  you  7  do." 

152 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

The  freebooters  were  not  at  home.  But  their 
"works"  were — displayed  in  profusion  all  about  the 
little  ratty  studio.  Cannon  to  the  right  of  them, 
cannon  to  the  left  of  them,  cannon  in  front — it  was 
Balaklava  come  again. 

"Here's  the  uncontented  hackman,  Tracy.  Buckle 
to — deepen  the  sea-green  to  turf,  turn  the  ship  into  a 
hearse.  Let  the  boys  have  a  taste  of  your  quality." 

The  artists  arrived  just  as  the  last  touch  was  put 
on.  They  stood  transfixed  with  admiration. 

"My  souls,  but  she's  a  stunner,  that  hearse!  The 
hackman  will  just  go  all  to  pieces  when  he  sees  that — 
won't  he,  Andy?" 

"Oh,  it  is  sphlennid,  sphlennid!  Herr  Tracy,  why 
haf  you  not  said  you  vas  a  so  sublime  aartist?  Lob' 
Gott,  of  you  had  lif 'd  in  Paris  you  would  be  a  Free  de 
Rome,  dot's  vot's  de  matter!" 

The  arrangements  were  soon  made.  Tracy  was 
taken  into  full  and  equal  partnership,  and  he  went 
straight  to  work,  with  dash  and  energy,  to  recon- 
structing gems  of  art  whose  accessories  had  failed  to 
satisfy.  Under  his  hand,  on  that  and  succeeding 
days,  artillery  disappeared  and  the  emblems  of  peace 
and  commerce  took  its  place — cats,  hacks,  sausages, 
tugs,  fire-engines,  pianos,  guitars,  rocks,  gardens, 
flower-pots,  landscapes — whatever  was  wanted,  he 
flung  it  in;  and  the  more  out  of  place  and  absurd  the 
required  object  was,  the  more  joy  he  got  out  of 
fabricating  it.  The  pirates  were  delighted,  the  cus- 
tomers applauded,  the  sex  began  to  flock  in,  great  was 
the  prosperity  of  the  firm.  Tracy  was  obliged  to 
confess  to  himself  that  there  was  something  about 

I  S3 


MARK    TWAIN 

work — even  such  grotesque  and  humble  work  as  this 
— which  most  pleasantly  satisfied  a  something  in  his 
nature  which  had  never  been  satisfied  before,  and 
also  gave  him  a  strange  new  dignity  in  his  own  private 
view  of  himself. 

The  Unqualified  Member  from  Cherokee  Strip  was 
in  a  state  of  deep  dejection.  For  a  good  while  now 
he  had  been  leading  a  sort  of  life  which  was  calculated 
to  kill;  for  it  had  consisted  in  regularly  alternating 
days  of  brilliant  hope  and  black  disappointment.  The 
brilliant  hopes  were  created  by  the  magician  Sellers, 
and  they  always  promised  that  now  he  had  got  the 
trick  sure,  and  would  effectively  influence  that  mate- 
rialized cowboy  to  call  at  the  Towers  before  night. 
The  black  disappointments  consisted  in  the  persist- 
ent and  monotonous  failure  of  these  prophecies. 

At  the  date  which  this  history  has  now  reached, 
Sellers  was  appalled  to  find  that  the  usual  remedy 
was  inoperative,  and  that  Hawkins's  low  spirits  re- 
fused, absolutely  to  lift.  Something  must  be  done, 
he  reflected;  it  was  heart-breaking,  this  woe,  this 
smileless  misery,  this  dull  despair  that  looked  out 
from  his  poor  friend's  face.  Yes,  he  must  be  cheered 
up.  He  mused  awhile,  then  he  saw  his  way.  He 
said,  in  his  most  conspicuously  casual  vein: 

"Er-uh — by  the  way,  Hawkins,  we  are  feeling 
disappointed  about  this  thing — the  way  the  mate- 
rializee  is  acting,  I  mean — we  are  disappointed;  you 
concede  that?" 

"Concede  it?    Why,  yes,  if  you  like  the  term." 

"Very  well;  so  far,  so  good.    Now  for  the  basis  of 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

the  feeling.  It  is  not  that  your  heart,  your  affections 
are  concerned;  that  is  to  say,  it  is  not  that  you  want 
the  materializee  Itself.  You  concede  that?" 

"Yes,  I  concede  that,  too — cordially." 

"Very  well,  again;  we  are  making  progress.  To 
sum  up :  The  feeling,  it  is  conceded,  is  not  engendered 
by  the  mere  conduct  of  the  materializee;  it  is  con- 
ceded that  it  does  not  arise  from  any  pang  which  the 
personality  of  the  materializee  could  assuage.  Now, 
then,"  said  the  earl,  with  the  light  of  triumph  in  his 
eye,  "the  inexorable  logic  of  the  situation  narrows 
us  down  to  this:  our  feeling  has  its  source  in  the 
money-loss  involved.  Come — isn't  that  so?" 

' '  Goodness  knows  I  concede  that  with  all  my  heart." 

"Very  well.  When  you've  found  out  the  source  of 
a  disease,  you've  also  found  out  what  remedy  is  re- 
quired— just  as  in  this  case.  In  this  case  money  is 
required.  And  only  money." 

The  old,  old  seduction  was  in  that  airy,  confident 
tone  and  those  significant  words — usually  called  preg- 
nant words  in  books.  The  old  answering  signs  of 
faith  and  hope  showed  up  in  Hawkins's  countenance, 
and  he  said : 

4 '  Only  money  ?  Do  you  mean  that  you  know  a  way 
to—"  ' 

"Washington,  have  you  the  impression  that  I  have 
no  resources  but  those  I  allow  the  public  and  my  inti- 
mate friends  to  know  about?" 

"Well,  I— er— " 

"Is  it  likely,  do  you  think,  that  a  man  moved  by 
nature  and  taught  by  experience  to  keep  his  affairs  to 
himself,  and  a  cautious  and  reluctant  tongue  in  his 


MARK    TWAIN 

head,  wouldn't  be  thoughtful  enough  to  keep  a  few 
resources  in  reserve  for  a  rainy  day,  when  he's  got  as 
many  as  I  have  to  select  from?" 

"Oh,  you  make  me  feel  so  much  better  already, 
Colonel!" 

"Have  you  ever  been  in  my  laboratory?" 

"Why,  no." 

"That's  it.  You  see,  you  didn't  even  know  that  I 
had  one.  Come  along.  I've  got  a  little  trick  there 
that  I  want  to  show  you.  I've  kept  it  perfectly  quiet, 
not  fifty  people  know  anything  about  it.  But  that's 
my  way,  always  been  my  way.  Wait  till  you're 
ready,  that's  the  idea;  and  when  you're  ready,  zzip! 
— let  her  go!" 

"Well,  Colonel,  I've  never  seen  a  man  that  I've 
had  such  unbounded  confidence  in  as  you.  When 
you  say  a  thing  right  out,  I  always  feel  as  if  that 
ends  it ;  as  if  that  is  evidence,  and  proof,  and  every- 
thing else." 

The  old  earl  was  profoundly  pleased  and  touched. 

"I'm  glad  you  believe  in  me,  Washington;  not 
everybody  is  so  just." 

' '  I  always  have  believed  in  you ;  and  I  always  shall 
as  long  as  I  live." 

"Thank  you,  my  boy.  You  sha'n't  repent  it.  And 
you  can't."  Arrived  in  the  "laboratory,"  the  earl 
continued,  "Now,  cast  your  eye  around  this  room — 
what  do  you  see?  Apparently  a  junk-shop;  appar- 
ently a  hospital  connected  with  a  patent-office — in 
reality,  the  mines  of  Golconda  in  disguise!  Look  at 
that  thing  there.  Now  what  would  you  take  that 
thing  to  be?" 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"I  don't  believe  I  could  ever  imagine." 

"Of  course  you  couldn't.  It's  my  grand  adapta- 
tion of  the  phonograph  to  the  marine  service.  You 
store  up  profanity  in  it  for  use  at  sea.  You  know  that 
sailors  don't  fly  around  worth  a  cent  unless  you 
swear  at  them — so  the  mate  that  can  do  the  best 
job  of  swearing  is  the  most  valuable  man.  In  great 
emergencies  his  talent  saves  the  ship.  But  a  ship  is 
a  large  thing,  and  he  can't  be  everywhere  at  once; 
so  there  have  been  times  when  one  mate  has  lost  a 
ship  which  could  have  been  saved  if  they  had  had 
a  hundred.  Prodigious  storms,  you  know.  Well,  a 
ship  can't  afford  a  hundred  mates;  but  she  can 
afford  a  hundred  Cursing  Phonographs,  and  distrib- 
ute them  all  over  the  vessel — and  there,  you  see,  she's 
armed  at  every  point.  Imagine  a  big  storm,  and 
a  hundred  of  my  machines  all  cursing  away  at  once 
— splendid  spectacle,  splendid! — you  couldn't  hear 
yourself  think.  Ship  goes  through  that  storm  per- 
fectly serene — she's  just  as  safe  as  she'd  be  on  shore." 

"It's  a  wonderful  idea.  How  do  you  prepare  the 
thing?" 

"Load  it — simply  load  it." 

"How?" 

"Why,  you  just  stand  over  it  and  swear  into  it." 

"That  loads  it,  does  it?" 

"Yes;  because  every  word  it  collars  it  keeps — 
keeps  it  forever.  Never  wears  out.  Any  time  you 
turn  the  crank,  out  it  '11  come.  In  times  of  great  peril 
you  can  reverse  it,  and  it  '11  swear  backwards.  That 
makes  a  sailor  hump  himself!" 

"Oh,  I  see.    Who  loads  them?— the  mate?" 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Yes,  if  he  chooses.  Or  I'll  furnish  them  already 
loaded.  I  can  hire  an  expert  for  seventy-five  dollars  a 
month  who  will  load  a  hundred  and  fifty  phonographs 
in  one  hundred  and  fifty  hours,  and  do  it  easy.  And 
an  expert  can  furnish  a  stronger  article,  of  course, 
than  the  mere  average  uncultivated  mate  could. 
Then,  you  see,  all  the  ships  of  the  world  will  buy  them 
ready  loaded — for  I  shall  have  them  loaded  in  any 
language  a  customer  wants.  Hawkins,  it  will  work 
the  grandest  moral  reform  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
Five  years  from  now  all  the  swearing  will  be  done  by 
machinery — you  won't  ever  hear  a  profane  word  come 
from  human  lips  on  a  ship.  Millions  of  dollars  have 
been  spent  by  the  churches  in  the  effort  to  abolish 
profanity  in  the  commercial  marine.  Think  of  it — 
my  name  will  live  forever  in  the  affections  of  good 
men  as  the  man  who,  solitary  and  alone,  accomplished 
this  noble  and  elevating  reform." 

"Oh,  it  is  grand  and  beneficent  and  beautiful. 
How  did  you  ever  come  to  think  of  it  ?  You  have  a 
wonderful  mind.  How  did  you  say  you  loaded  the 
machine?" 

"Oh,  it's  no  trouble — perfectly  simple.  If  you 
want  to  load  it  up  loud  and  strong,  you  stand  right 
over  it  and  shout.  But  if  you  leave  it  open  and  all 
set,  it  '11  eavesdrop,  so  to  speak — that  is  to  say,  it  will 
load  itself  up  with  any  sounds  that  are  made  within 
six  feet  of  it.  Now  I'll  show  you  how  it  works.  I 
had  an  expert  come  and  load  this  one  up  yesterday. 
Hello,  it's  been  left  open — it's  too  bad — still  I  reckon  it 
hasn't  had  much  chance  to  collect  irrelevant  stuff. 
All  you  do  is  to  press  this  button  in  the  floor — so." 

158 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 
The  phonograph  began  to  sing  in  a  plaintive  voice: 

There  is  a  boarding-house  far  far  away, 

Where  they  have  ham  and  eggs  three  times  a  day. 

"Hang  it,  that  ain't  it.  Somebody's  been  singing 
around  here." 

The  plaintive  song  began  again,  mingled  with  a 
low,  gradually  rising  wail  of  cats  slowly  warming  up 
toward  a  fight: 

Oh,  how  the  boarders  yell, 

When  they  hear  that  dinner-bell — 

They  give  that  landlord 

(momentary  outburst  of  terrific  cat -fight  which 
drowns  out  one  word) 

Three  times  a  day. 

(Renewal  of  furious  cat-fight  for  a  moment.  The 
plaintive  voice  on  a  high,  fierce  key,  "Scat,  you 
devils!"  and  a  racket  as  of  flying  missiles.) 

"Well,  never  mind — let  it  go.  I've  got  some  sailor 
profanity  down  in  there  somewhere,  if  I  could  get  to 
it.  But  it  isn't  any  matter ;  you  see  how  the  machine 
works." 

Hawkins  responded,  with  enthusiasm: 

"Oh,  it  works  admirably!  I  know  there's  a  hun- 
dred fortunes  in  it." 

"And  mind,  the  Hawkins  family  get  their  share, 
Washington." 

"Oh,  thanks,  thanks;  you  are  just  as  generous  as 
ever.  Ah,  it's  the  grandest  invention  of  the  age!" 

"Ah,  well,  we  live  in  wonderful  times.    The  ele- 


MARK    TWAIN 

ments  are  crowded  full  of  beneficent  forces — always 
have  been — and  ours  is  the  first  generation  to  turn 
them  to  account  and  make  them  work  for  us.  Why, 
Hawkins,  everything  is  useful — nothing  ought  ever  to 
be  wasted.  Now  look  at  sewer-gas,  for  instance. 
Sewer-gas  has  always  been  wasted  heretofore;  no- 
body tried  to  save  up  sewer-gas — you  can't  name  me 
a  man.  Ain't  that  so?  You  know  perfectly  well  it's 
so." 

"Yes,  it  is  so — but  I  never — er — I  don't  quite  see 
why  a  body — " 

"Should  want  to  save  it  up?  Well,  I'll  tell  you. 
Do  you  see  this  little  invention  here? — it's  a  decom- 
poser— I  call  it  a  decomposer.  I  give  you  my  word 
of  honor  that  if  you  show  me  a  house  that  produces  a 
given  quantity  of  sewer-gas  in  a  day,  I'll  engage  to  set 
up  my  decomposer  there  and  make  that  house  pro- 
duce a  hundred  times  that  quantity  of  sewer-gas  in 
less  than  half  an  hour." 

"Dear  me,  but  why  should  you  want  to?" 

"Want  to?  Listen,  and  you'll  see.  My  boy,  for 
illuminating  purposes  and  economy  combined,  there's 
nothing  in  the  world  that  begins  with  sewer-gas. 
And  really  it  don't  cost  a  cent.  You  put  in  a  good 
inferior  article  of  plumbing — such  as  you  find  every- 
where— and  add  my  decomposer,  and  there  you  are. 
Just  use  the  ordinary  gas -pipes  —  and  there  your 
expense  ends.  Think  of  it.  Why,  Major,  in  five 
years  from  now  you  won't  see  a  house  lighted  with 
anything  but  sewer-gas.  Every  physician  I  talk  to 
recommends  it,  and  every  plumber." 

"But  isn't  it  dangerous?" 
1 60 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"Oh,  yes,  more  or  less,  but  everything  is — coal- 
gas,  candles,  electricity — there  isn't  anything  that 
ain't." 

"It  lights  up  well,  does  it?" 

"Oh,  magnificently." 

"Have  you  given  it  a  good  trial?" 

"Well,  no,  not  a  first-rate  one.  Polly's  prejudiced, 
and  she  won't  let  me  put  it  in  here;  but  I'm  playing 
my  cards  to  get  it  adopted  in  the  President's  house, 
and  then  it  '11  go — don't  you  doubt  it.  I  shall  not 
need  this  one  for  the  present,  Washington;  you  may 
take  it  down  to  some  boarding-house  and  give  it  a 
trial  if  you  like." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WASHINGTON  shuddered  slightly  at  the  sug- 
gestion; then  his  face  took  on  a  dreamy  look 
and  he  dropped  into  a  trance  of  thought.    After  a 
little  Sellers  asked  him  what  he  was  grinding  in  his 
mental  mill. 

"Well,  this.  Have  you  got  some  secret  project  in 
your  head  which  requires  a  Bank  of  England  back  of 
it  to  make  it  succeed?" 

The  Colonel  showed  lively  astonishment,  and  said : 
"Why,  Hawkins,  are  you  a  mind-reader?" 
"I?    I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing." 
"Well,  then,  how  did  you  happen  to  drop  on  to 
that  idea  in  this  curious  fashion?    It's  just  mind- 
reading — that's  what  it  is,  though  you  may  not  know 
it.    Because  I  have  got  a  private  project  that  requires 
a  Bank  of  England  at  its  back.     How  could  you 
divine  that?   "What  was  the  process?    This  is  inter- 
esting." 

"There  wasn't  any  process.  A  thought  like  this 
happened  to  slip  through  my  head  by  accident: 
How  much  would  make  you  or  me  comfortable?  A 
hundred  thousand.  Yet  you  are  expecting  two  or 
three  of  these  inventions  of  yours  to  turn  out  some 
billions  of  money — and  you  are  wanting  them  to  do 
that.  If  you  wanted  ten  millions,  I  could  understand 

169 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

that — it's  inside  the  human  limits.  But  billions! 
That's  clear  outside  the  limits.  There  must  be  a 
definite  project  back  of  that  somewhere." 

The  earl's  interest  and  surprise  augmented  with 
every  word,  and  when  Hawkins  finished  he  said,  with 
strong  admiration: 

"It's  wonderfully  reasoned  out,  Washington,  it 
certainly  is.  It  shows  what  I  think  is  quite  extraor- 
dinary penetration.  For  you've  hit  it;  you've  dri- 
ven the  center,  you've  plugged  the  bull's-eye  of  my 
dream.  Now  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  thing,  and  you'll 
understand  it.  I  don't  need  to  ask  you  to  keep  it  to 
yourself,  because  you'll  see  that  the  project  will  pros- 
per all  the  better  for  being  kept  in  the  background 
till  the  right  time.  Have  you  noticed  how  many 
pamphlets  and  books  I've  got  lying  around  relating 
to  Russia?" 

"Yes,  I  think  most  anybody  would  notice  that — 
anybody  who  wasn't  dead." 

"Well,  I've  been  posting  myself  a  good  while. 
That's  a  great  and  splendid  nation,  and  deserves  to 
be  set  free."  He  paused;  then  added,  in  a  quite 
matter-of-fact  way,  "When  I  get  this  money  I'm 
going  to  set  it  free." 

"Great  guns!" 

"Why,  what  makes  you  jump  like  that?" 

"Dear  me,  when  you  are  ^oing  to  drop  a  remark 
under  a  man's  chair  that  is  likely  to  blow  him  out 
through  the  roof,  why  don't  you  put  some  expression, 
some  force,  some  noise  into  it  that  will  prepare  him? 
You  shouldn't  flip  out  such  a  gigantic  thing  as  this  in 
that  colorless  kind  of  a  way.  You  do  jolt  a  person  up 

163 


MARK    TWAIN 

so.  Go  on  now,  I'm  all  right  again.  Tell  me  all  about 
it.  I'm  all  interest — yes,  and  sympathy,  too.'* 

"Well,  I've  looked  the  ground  over,  and  concluded 
that  the  methods  of  the  Russian  patriots,  while  good 
enough,  considering  the  way  the  boys  are  hampered, 
are  not  the  best — at  least,  not  the  quickest.  They 
are  trying  to  revolutionize  Russia  from  within;  that's 
pretty  slow,  you  know,  and  liable  to  interruption  all 
the  time,  and  is  full  of  perils  for  the  workers.  Do  you 
know  how  Peter  the  Great  started  his  army?  He 
didn't  start  it  on  the  family  premises  under  the  noses 
of  the  Strelitzes;  no,  he  started  it  away  off  yonder, 
privately — only  just  one  regiment,  you  know,  and  he 
built  to  that.  The  first  thing  the  Strelitzes  knew,  the 
regiment  was  an  army,  their  position  was  turned,  and 
they  had  to  take  a  walk.  Just  that  little  idea  made 
the  biggest  and  worst  of  all  the  despotisms  the  world 
has  seen.  The  same  idea  can  wnmake  it.  I'm  going 
to  prove  it.  I'm  going  to  get  out  to  one  side  and 
work  my  scheme  the  way  Peter  did." 

"This  is  mighty  interesting,  Rossmore.  What  is  it 
you  are  going  to  do?" 

"I  am  going  to  buy  Siberia  and  start  a  republic." 

"There — bang  you  go  again  without  giving  any 
notice!  Going  to  buy  it?" 

"Yes,  as  soon  as  I  get  the  money.  I  don't  care 
what  the  price  is,  I  shall  take  it.  I  can  afford  it,  and 
I  will.  Now,  then,  consider  this — and  you've  never 
thought  of  it,  I'll  warrant.  Where  is  the  place  where 
there  is  twenty-five  times  more  manhood,  pluck,  true 
heroism,  unselfishness,  devotion  to  high  and  noble 
ideals,  adoration  of  liberty,  wide  education,  and 

164 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

brains,  per  thousand  of  population,  than  any  other 
domain  in  the  whole  world  can  show?" 

"Siberia!" 

"Right." 

"It  is  true ;  it  certainly  is  true,  but  I  never  thought 
of  it  before." 

"Nobody  ever  thinks  of  it.  But  it's  so,  just  the 
same.  In  those  mines  and  prisons  are  gathered  to- 
gether the  very  finest  and  noblest  and  capablest 
multitude  of  human  beings  that  God  is  able  to 
create.  Now  if  you  had  that  kind  of  a  population 
to  sell,  would  you  offer  it  to  a  despotism?  No,  the 
despotism  has  no  use  for  it;  you  would  lose  money. 
A  despotism  has  no  use  for  anything  but  human  cat- 
tle. But  suppose  you  want  to  start  a  republic?" 

"Yes,  I  see.    It's  just  the  material  for  it." 

"Well,  I  should  say  so!  There's  Siberia,  with  just 
the  very  finest  and  choicest  material  on  the  globe 
for  a  republic,  and  more  coming — more  coming  all 
the  time,  don't  you  see!  It  is  being  daily,  weekly, 
monthly  recruited  by  the  most  perfectly  devised 
system  that  has  ever  been  invented  perhaps.  By 
this  system  the  whole  of  the  hundred  millions  of 
Russia  are  being  constantly  and  patiently  sifted, 
sifted,  sifted  by  myriads  of  trained  experts,  spies 
appointed  by  the  emperor  personally;  and  whenever 
they  catch  a  man,  woman,  or  child  that  has  got  any 
brains  or  education  or  character  they  ship  that  person 
straight  to  Siberia.  It  is  admirable,  it  is  wonderful. 
It  is  so  searching  and  so  effective  that  it  keeps  the 
general  level  of  Russian  intellect  and  education  down 
to  that  of  the  Czar." 

165 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Come,  that  sounds  like  exaggeration." 

"Well,  it's  what  they  say,  anyway.  But  I  think, 
myself,  it's  a  lie.  And  it  doesn't  seem  right  to 
slander  a  whole  nation  that  way,  anyhow.  Now, 
then,  you  see  what  the  material  is,  there  in  Siberia, 
for  a  republic."  He  paused,  and  his  breast  began  to 
heave  and  his  eye  to  burn  under  the  impulse  of  strong 
emotion.  Then  his  words  began  to  stream  forth 
with  constantly  increasing  energy  and  fire,  and  he 
rose  to  his  feet  as  if  to  give  himself  larger  freedom. 
"The  minute  I  organize  that  republic,  the  light  of 
liberty,  intelligence,  justice,  humanity,  bursting 
from  it,  flooding  from  it,  flaming  from  it,  will  con- 
centrate the  gaze  of  the  whole  astonished  world  as 
upon  the  miracle  of  a  new  sun;  Russia's  countless 
multitudes  of  slaves  will  rise  up  and  march,  march ! 
— eastward,  with  that  great  light  transfiguring  their 
faces  as  they  come,  and  far  back  of  them  you  will 
see — what  will  you  see? — a  vacant  throne  in  an 
empty  land!  It  can  be  done,  and  by  God  I  will 
doit!" 

He  stood  a  moment  bereft  of  earthly  conscious- 
ness by  his  exaltation;  then  consciousness  returned, 
bringing  him  a  slight  shock,  and  he  said,  with  grave 
earnestness : 

"I  must  ask  you  to  pardon  me,  Major  Hawkins. 
I  have  never  used  that  expression  before,  and  I  beg 
you  will  forgive  it  this  time." 

Hawkins  was  quite  willing. 

"You  see,  Washington,  it  is  an  error  which  I  am 
by  nature  not  liable  to.  Only  excitable  people,  im- 
pulsive people,  are  exposed  to  it.  But  the  circum- 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

i 

stances  of  the  present  case  —  I  being  a  democrat  by 
birth  and  preference,  and  an  aristocrat  by  inheri- 
tance and  relish  —  " 

The  earl  stopped  suddenly,  his  frame  stiffened,  and 
he  began  to  stare  speechless  through  the  curtainless 
window.  Then  he  pointed,  and  gasped  out  a  single 
rapturous  word: 

"Look!" 

"What  is  it,  Colonel?" 


"No!" 

"Sure  as  you're  born.  Keep  perfectly  still.  I'll 
apply  the  influence  —  I'll  turn  on  all  my  force.  I've 
brought  It  thus  far  —  I'll  fetch  It  right  into  the 
house.  You'll  see." 

He  was  making  all  sorts  of  passes  in  the  air  with 
his  hands. 

"There!  Look  at  that.  I've  made  It^smile! 
See?" 

Quite  true.  Tracy,  out  for  an  afternoon  stroll, 
had  come  unexpectedly  upon  his  family  arms  dis- 
played upon  this  shabby  house-front.  The  hatch- 
ments made  him  smile;  which  was  nothing  —  they 
had  made  the  neighborhood  cats  do  that. 

"Look,  Hawkins,  look!    I'm  drawing  It  over!" 

"You're  drawing  It  sure,  Rossmore.  If  I  ever  had 
any  doubts  about  materialization,  they're  gone  now, 
and  gone  for  good.  Oh,  this  is  a  joyful  day!" 

Tracy  was  sauntering  over  to  read  the  door-plate. 
Before  he  was  half-way  over  he  was  saying  to 
himself,  "Why,  manifestly  these  are  the  American 
Claimant's  quarters." 

167 


MARK    TWAIN 

"It's  coming — coming  right  along.  I'll  slide  down 
and  pull  It  in.  You  follow  after  me." 

Sellers,  pale  and  a  good  deal  agitated,  opened  the 
door  and  confronted  Tracy.  The  old  man  could 
not  at  once  get  his  voice;  then  he  pumped  out  a 
scattering  and  hardly  coherent  salutation,  and  fol- 
lowed it  with: 

"Walk  in,  walk  right  in,  Mr.— er— " 

"Tracy— Howard  Tracy." 

— "Tracy — thanks — walk  right  in,  you're  ex- 
pected." 

Tracy  entered,  considerably  puzzled,  and  said: 

"Expected?   I  think  there  must  be  some  mistake." 

"Oh,  I  judge  not,"  said  Sellers,  who,  noticing  that 
Hawkins  had  arrived,  gave  him  a  sidewise  glance 
intended  to  call  his  close  attention  to  a  dramatic 
effect  which  he  was  proposing  to  produce  by  his  next 
remark.  Then  he  said,  slowly  and  impressively:  "I 
am — You  Know  Who." 

To  the  astonishment  of  both  conspirators  the  re- 
mark produced  no  dramatic  effect  at  all;  for  the 
new-comer  responded,  with  a  quite  innocent  and 
unembarrassed  air : 

"No,  pardon  me.  I  don't  know  who  you  are.  I 
only  suppose — but  no  doubt  correctly — that  you  are 
the  gentleman  whose  title  is  on  the  door-plate." 

"Right,  quite  right  —  sit  down,  pray  sit  down." 
The  earl  was  rattled,  thrown  off  his  bearings,  his  head 
was  in  a  whirl.  Then  he  noticed  Hawkins  standing 
apart  and  staring  idiotically  at  what  to  him  was  the 
apparition  of  a  defunct  man,  and  a  new  idea  was 
born  to  him.  He  said  to  Tracy,  briskly : 

168 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"But  a  thousand  pardons,  dear  sir;  I  am  forgetting 
courtesies  due  to  a  guest  and  stranger.  Let  me  in- 
troduce my  friend  General  Hawkins — General  Haw- 
kins, our  new  Senator — Senator  from  the  latest  and 
grandest  addition  to  the  radiant  galaxy  of  sovereign 
States,  Cherokee  Strip" — (to  himself,  "that  name 
will  shrivel  him  up!" — but  it  didn't  in  the  least,  and 
the  Colonel  resumed  the  introduction  piteously  dis- 
heartened and  amazed) — "Senator  Hawkins,  Mr. 
Howard  Tracy,  of — er — " 

"England." 

"England!— Why,  that's  im— " 

"England,  yes,  native  of  England." 

"Recently  from  there?" 

"Yes,  quite  recently." 

Said  the  Colonel  to  himself,  "This  phantom  lies 
like  an  expert.  Purifying  this  kind  by  fire  don't 
work.  I'll  sound  him  a  little  further,  give  him 
another  chance  or  two  to  work  his  gift."  Then 
aloud,  with  deep  irony: 

"Visiting  our  great  country  for  recreation  and 
amusement,  no  doubt.  I  suppose  you  find  that 
traveling  in  the  majestic  expanses  of  our  Far  West 
is—" 

"I  haven't  been  West,  and  haven't  been  devoting 
myself  to  amusement  with  any  sort  of  exclusiveness, 
I  assure  you.  In  fact,  to  merely  live,  an  artist  has 
got  to  work,  not  play." 

"Artist!"  said  Hawkins  to  himself,  thinking  of  the 
rifled  bank;  "that  is  a  name  for  it!" 

"Are  you  an  artist?"  asked  the  Colonel.  And 
added  to  himself,  "Now  I'm  going  to  catch  him." 

169 


MARK    TWAIN 

"In  a  humble  way,  yes." 

"What  line?"  pursued  the  sly  veteran. 

"Oils." 

"I've  got  him!"  said  Sellers  to  himself.  Then 
aloud,  "This  is  fortunate.  Could  I  engage  you 
to.  restore  some  of  my  paintings  that  need  that 
attention?" 

"I  shall  be  very  glad.    Pray  let  me  see  them." 

No  shuffling,  no  evasion,  no  embarrassment,  even 
under  this  crucial  test.  The  Colonel  was  nonplussed. 
He  led  Tracy  to  a  chromo  which  had  suffered  damage 
in  a  former  owner's  hands  through  being  used  as  a 
lamp-mat,  and  said,  with  a  flourish  of  his  hand 
toward  the  picture: 

"This  del  Sarto— " 

"Is  that  a  del  Sarto?" 

The  Colonel  bent  a  look  of  reproach  upon  Tracy, 
allowed  it  to  sink  home,  then  resumed  as  if  there 
had  been  no  interruption: 

"This  del  Sarto  is  perhaps  the  only  original  of  that 
sublime  master  in  our  country.  You  see,  yourself, 
that  the  work  is  of  such  exceeding  delicacy  that  the 
risk — could — er — would  you  mind  giving  me  a  little 
example  of  what  you  can  do  before  we — " 

"Cheerfully,  cheerfully.  I  will  copy  one  of  these 
marvels." 

Water-color  materials — relics  of  Miss  Sally's  college 
life — were  brought.  Tracy  said  he  was  better  in  oils, 
but  would  take  a  chance  with  these.  So  he  was  left 
alone.  He  began  his  work,  but  the  attractions  of 
the  place  were  too  strong  for  him,  and  he  got  up  and 
went  drifting  about,  fascinated;  also  amazed. 

170 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MEANTIME  the  earl  and  Hawkins  were  holding 
a  troubled  and  anxious  private  consultation. 
The  earl  said: 

"The  mystery  that  bothers  me  is,  Where  did  It 
get  its  other  arm?" 

"Yes;  it  worries  me,  too.  And  another  thing 
troubles  me — the  apparition  is  English.  How  do 
you  account  for  that,  Colonel?" 

"Honestly,  I  don't  know,  Hawkins,  I  don't  really 
know.  It  is  very  confusing  and  awful." 

"Don't  you  think  maybe  we've  waked  up  the 
wrong  one?" 

"The  wrong  one?  How  do  you  account  for  the 
clothes?" 

"The  clothes  are  right,  there's  no  getting  around 
it.  What  are  we  going  to  do  ?  We  can't  collect,  as 
I  see.  The  reward  is  for  a  one-armed  American. 
This  is  a  two-armed  Englishman." 

"Well,  it  may  be  that  that  is  not  objectionable. 
You  see,  it  isn't  less  than  is  called  for;  it  is  more,  and 
so—" 

But  he  saw  that  this  argument  was  weak,  and 
dropped  it.  The  friends  sat  brooding  over  their  per- 
plexities some  time  in  silence.  Finally  the  earl's  face 
began  to  glow  with  an  inspiration,  and  he  said, 
impressively: 

171 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Hawkins,  this  materialization  is  a  grander  and 
nobler  science  than  we  have  dreamed  of.  We  have 
little  imagined  what  a  solemn,  and  stupendous  thing 
we  have  done.  The  whole  secret  is  perfectly  clear 
to  me  now,  clear  as  day.  Every  man  is  made  up  oj 
heredities,  long-descended  atoms  and  particles  of  his 
ancestors.  This  present  materialization  is  incom- 
plete. We  have  only  brought  it  down  to  perhaps 
the  beginning  of  this  century." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Colonel?"  cried  Hawkins, 
filled  with  vague  alarms  by  the  old  man's  awe- 
compelling  words  and  manner. 

"This :  We've  materialized  this  burglar's  ancestor !" 

"Oh,  don't— don't  say  that.     It's  hideous." 

"But  it's  true,  Hawkins;  I  know  it.  Look  at  the 
facts.  This  apparition  is  distinctly  English — note 
that.  It  uses  good  grammar — note  that.  It  is  an 
artist — note  that.  It  has  the  manners  and  carriage 
of  a  gentleman — note  that.  Where's  your  cowboy? 
Answer  me  that." 

"Rossmore,  this  is  dreadful — it's  too  dreadful  to 
think  of!" 

"Never  resurrected  a  rag  of  that  burglar  but  the 
clothes,  not  a  solitary  rag  of  him  but  the  clothes." 

"Colonel,  do  you  really  mean — " 

The  Colonel  brought  his  fist  down  with  emphasis, 
and  said: 

"I  mean  exactly  this:  This  materialization  was 
immature,  the  burglar  has  evaded  us;  this  is  nothing 
but  a  damned  ancestor!" 

He  rose  and  walked  the  floor  in  great  excitement. 
Hawkins  said,  plaintively : 

172 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"It's  a  bitter  disappointment — bitter." 

"I  know  it.  I  know  it,  Senator;  I  feel  it  as  deeply 
as  anybody  could.  But  we've  got  to  submit — on 
moral  grounds.  I  need  money,  but  God  knows  I  am 
not  poor  enough  or  shabby  enough  to  be  an  accessory 
to  the  punishing  of  a  man's  ancestor  for  crimes  com- 
mitted by  that  ancestor's  posterity." 

"But,  Colonel!"  implored  Hawkins,  "stop  and 
think;  don't  be  rash;  you  know  it's  the  only  chance 
we've  got  to  get  the  money;  and,  besides,  the  Bible 
itself  says  posterity  to  the  fourth  generation  shall 
be  punished  for  the  sins  and  crimes  committed  by 
ancestors  four  generations  back  that  hadn't  any- 
thing to  do  with  them;  and  so  it's  only  fair  to  turn 
the  rule  around  and  make  it  work  both  ways." 

The  Colonel  was  struck  with  the  strong  logic  of 
this  position.  He  strode  up  and  down,  and  thought 
it  painfully  over.  Finally  he  said: 

"There's  reason  in  it;  yes,  there's  reason  in  it. 
And  so,  although  it  seems  a  piteous  thing  to  sweat 
this  poor  ancient  devil  for  a  burglary  he  hadn't  the 
least  hand  in,  still  if  duty  commands  I  suppose  we 
must  give  him  up  to  the  authorities." 

"7  would,"  said  Hawkins,  cheered  and  relieved; 
"I'd  give  him  up  if  he  was  a  thousand  ancestors 
compacted  into  one." 

"Lord  bless  me,  that's  just  what  he  is!"  said 
Sellers,  with  something  like  a  groan;  "it's  exactly 
what  he  is;  there's  a  contribution  in  him  from  every 
ancestor  he  ever  had.  In  him  there's  atoms  of 
priests,  soldiers,  crusaders,  poets,  and  sweet  and 
gracious  women — all  kinds  and  conditions  of  folk 


MARK    TWAIN 

who  trod  this  earth  in  old,  old  centuries,  and  vanished 
out  of  it  ages  ago,  and  now  by  act  of  ours  they  are 
summoned  from  their  holy  peace  to  answer  for  gut- 
ting a  one-horse  bank  away  out  on  the  borders  of 
Cherokee  Strip,  and  it's  just  a  howling  outrage!" 

"Oh,  don't  talk  like  that,  Colonel;  it  takes  the 
heart  all  out  of  me,  and  makes  me  ashamed  of  the 
part  I  am  proposing  to — " 

"Wait— I've  got  it!" 

"A  saving  hope?    Shout  it  out,  I  am  perishing.'* 

"It's  perfectly  simple;  a  child  would  have  thought 
of  it.  He  is  all  right,  not  a  flaw  in  him,  as  far  as  I 
have  carried  the  work.  If  I've  been  able  to  bring 
him  as  far  as  the  beginning  of  this  century,  what's 
to  stop  me  now?  I'll  go  on  and  materialize  him 
down  to  date." 

"Land,  I  never  thought  of  that!"  said  Hawkins, 
all  ablaze  with  joy  again.  "It's  the  very  thing. 
What  a  brain  you  have  got!  And  will  he  shed  the 
superfluous  arm?" 

"He-will." 

"And  lose  his  English  accent?" 

"It  will  wholly  disappear.  He  will  speak  Cherokee 
Strip — and  other  forms  of  profanity." 

"Colonel,  maybe  he'll  confess!" 

' '  Confess  ?    Merely  that  bank  robbery  ?' ' 

' '  Merely  ?    Yes,  but  why  '  merely '  ? " 

The  Colonel  said,  in  his  most  impressive  manner: 

"Hawkins,  he  will  be  wholly  under  my  command. 
I  will  make  him  confess  every  crime  he  ever  com- 
mitted. There  must  be  a  thousand.  Do  you  get  the 
idea?" 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"Well— not  quite." 

"The  rewards  will  come  to  us." 

"Prodigious  conception!  I  never  saw  such  a  head 
for  seeing  with  a  lightning  glance  all  the  outlying 
ramifications  and  possibilities  of  a  central  idea." 

"It  is  nothing;  it  comes  natural  to  me.  When  his 
time  is  out  in  one  jail  he  goes  to  the  next  and  the 
next,  and  we  shall  have  nothing  to  do  but  collect  the 
rewards  as  he  goes  along.  It  is  a  perfectly  steady 
income  as  long  as  we  live,  Hawkins.  And  much 
better  than  other  kinds  of  investments,  because  he 
is  indestructible." 

"It  looks — it  really  does  look  the  way  you  say; 
it  does,  indeed." 

"Look? — why,  it  is.  It  will  not  be  denied  that  I 
have  had  a  pretty  wide  and  comprehensive  financial 
experience,  and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  I  con- 
sider this  one  of  the  most  valuable  properties  I  have 
ever  controlled." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?" 

"I  do,  indeed." 

"Oh,  Colonel,  the  wasting  grind  and  grief  of 
poverty!  If  we  could  realize  immediately.  I  don't 
mean  sell  it  all,  but  sell  part — enough,  you  know, 
to—" 

"See  how  you  tremble  with  excitement.  That 
comes  of  lack  of  experience*.  My  boy,  when  you 
have  been  familiar  with  vast  operations  as  long  as 
I  have  you'll  be  different.  Look  at  me.  Is  my  eye 
dilated?  Do  you  notice  a  quiver  anywhere?  Feel 
my  pulse:  plunk — plunk — plunk — same  as  if  I  were 
asleep.  And  yet,  what  is  passing  through  my  calm, 
13  175 


MARK    TWAIN 

cold  mind?  A  procession  of  figures  which  would 
make  a  financial  novice  drunk — just  the  sight  of 
them.  Now  it  is  by  keeping  cool,  and  looking  at  a 
thing  all  around,  that  a  man  sees  what's  really  in  it, 
and  saves  himself  from  the  novice's  unfailing  mistake 
— the  one  you've  just  suggested — eagerness  to  realize. 
Listen  to  me.  Your  idea  is  to  sell  a  part  of  him  for 
ready  cash.  Now  mine  is — guess." 

"I  haven't  an  idea.    What  is  it?" 

"Stock  him — of  course." 

"Well,  I  should  never  have  thought  of  that." 

"Because  you  are  not  a  financier.  Say  he  has 
committed  a  thousand  crimes.  Certainly  that's  a 
low  estimate.  By  the  look  of  him,  even  in  his  un- 
finished condition,  he  has  committed  all  of  a  mill- 
ion. But  call  it  only  a  thousand  to  be  perfectly 
safe;  five  thousand  reward,  multiplied  by  a  thousand, 
gives  us  a  dead  sure  cash  basis  of — what?  Five 
million  dollars!" 

"Wait — let  me  get  my  breath." 

"And  the  property  indestructible.  Perpetually 
fruitful — perpetually;  for  a  property  with  his  dis- 
position will  go  on  committing  crimes  and  winning 
rewards." 

"You  daze  me,  you  make  my  head  whirl!" 

"Let  it  whirl,  it  won't  do  any  harm.  Now  that 
matter  is  all  fixed— leave  it  alone.  I'll  get  up  the 
company  and  issue  the  stock,  all  in  good  time.  Just 
leave  it  in  my  hands.  I  judge  you  don't  doubt  my 
ability  to  work  it  up  for  all  it  is  worth." 

"Indeed,  I  don't.     I  can  say  that  with  truth." 

"All  right,  then.  That's  disposed  of.  Every- 
176 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

thing  in  its  turn.  We  old  operators  go  by  order  and 
system — no  helter-skelter  business  with  us.  What's 
the  next  thing  on  the  docket?  The  carrying  on  of 
the  materialization — the  bringing  it  down  to  date. 
I  will  begin  on  that  at  once.  I  think — " 

"Look  here,  Rossmore.  You  didn't  lock  It  in.  A 
hundred  to  one  It  has  escaped!" 

"Calm  yourself  as  to  that;  don't  give  yourself  any 
uneasiness." 

"But  why  shouldn't  It  escape?" 

"Let  It,  if  It  wants  to.    What  of  it?" 

"Well,  /  should  consider  it  a  pretty  serious 
calamity." 

"Why,  my  dear  boy,  once  in  my  power,  always 
in  my  power.  It  may  go  and  come  freely.  I  can 
produce  It  here  whenever  I  want  It,  just  by  the 
exercise  of  my  will." 

"Well,  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  that,  I  do  assure 
you." 

"Yes,  I  shall  give  It  all  the  painting  It  wants  to 
do,  and  we  and  the  family  will  make  It  as  comfortable 
and  contented  as  we  can.  No  occasion  to  restrain 
Its  movements.  I  hope  to  persuade  It  to  remain 
pretty  quiet,  though,  because  a  materialization  which 
is  in  a  state  of  arrested  development  must  of  neces- 
sity be  pretty  soft  and  flabby  and  substanceless,  and 
— er — by  the  way,  I  wonder  where JEt^cpmes  from?" 

"How?    What  do  you  mean?"/ 

The  earl  pointed  significantly — and  interrogatively 
— toward  the  sky.  Hawkins  started;  then  settled 
into  deep  reflection;  finally  shook  his  head  sorrow- 
fully and  pointed  downward. 

177 


MARK    TWAIN 

"What  makes  you  think  so,  Washington?" 

"Well,  I  hardly  know,  but  really  you  can  see 
yourself  that  he  doesn't  seem  to  be  pining  for  his 
last  place." 

"It's  well  thought!  Soundly  deduced.  We've 
done  that  Thing  a  favor.  But  I  believe  I  will  pump 
It  a  little,  in  a  quiet  way,  and  find  out  if  we  are 
right." 

"How  long  is  it  going  to  take  to  finish  him  off  and 
fetch  him  down  to  date,  Colonel?" 

"I  wish  I  knew,  but  I  don't.  I  am  clear  knocked 
out  by  this  new  detail — this  unforeseen  necessity  of 
working  a  subject  down  gradually  from  his  condition 
of  ancestor  to  his  ultimate  result  as  posterity.  But 
I'll  make  him  hump  himself,  anyway." 

"Rossmore!" 

"Yes,  dear.  We're  in  the  laboratory.  Come — 
Hawkins  is  here.  Mind  now,  Hawkins  —  he's  a 
sound,  living  human  being  to  all  the  family — don't 
forget  that.  Here  she  comes." 

"Keep  your  seats,  I'm  not  coming  in.  I  just 
wanted  to  ask,  who  is  it  that's  painting  down 
there?" 

1 '  That  ?  Oh,  that's  a  young  artist ;  young  English- 
man named  Tracy;  very  promising — favorite  pupil  of 
Hans  Christian  Andersen  or  one  of  the  other  old 
masters — Andersen  I'm  pretty  sure  it  is;  he's  going 
to  half-sole  some  of  our  old  Italian  masterpieces. 
Been  talking  to  him?" 

"Well,  only  a  word.  I  stumbled  right  in  on  him 
without  expecting  anybody  was  there.  I  tried  to 
be  polite  to  him;  offered  him  a  snack"  (Sellers  de- 

178 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

livered  a  large  wink  to  Hawkins  from  behind  his 
hand),  "but  he  declined,  and  said  he  wasn't  hungry  " 
(another  sarcastic  wink) ;  "so  I  brought  some  apples" 
(double  wink),  "and  he  ate  a  couple  of — " 

"What!"  And  the  Colonel  sprang  some  yards 
toward  the  ceiling,  and  came  down  quaking  with 
astonishment. 

Lady  Rossmore  was  smitten  dumb  with  amaze- 
ment. She  gazed  at  the  sheepish  relic  of  Cherokee 
Strip,  then  at  her  husband,  and  then  at  the  guest 
again.  Finally  she  said: 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Mulberry?" 

He  did  not  answer  immediately.  His  back  was 
turned;  he  was  bending  over  his  chair,  feeling  the  seat 
of  it.  But  he  answered  next  moment,  and  said: 

"Ah,  there  it  is;  it  was  a  tack." 

The  lady  contemplated  him  doubtfully  a  moment, 
then  said,  pretty  snappishly : 

"All  that  for  a  tack!  Praise  goodness  it  wasn't  a 
shingle  nail ;  it  would  have  landed  you  in  the  Milky 
Way.  I  do  hate  to  have  my  nerves  shook  up  so." 
And  she  turned  on  her  heel  and  went  her  way. 

As  soon  as  she  was  safely  out,  the  Colonel  said  in 
a  suppressed  voice: 

"Come — we  must  see  for  ourselves.  It  must  be  a 
mistake." 

They  hurried  softly  down  and  peeped  in.  Sellers 
whispered,  in  a  sort  of  despair: 

' '  It  is  eating !  What  a  grisly  spectacle !  Hawkins, 
it's  horrible!  Take  me  away — I  can't  stand  it." 

They  tottered  back  to  the  laboratory. 


CHAPTER  XX 

TRACY  made  slow  progress  with  his  work,  for 
his  mind  wandered  a  good  deal.  Many  things 
were  puzzling  him.  Finally  a  light  burst  upon  him 
all  of  a  sudden — seemed  to,  at  any  rate — and  he  said 
to  himself,  "I've  got  the  clue  at  last — this  man's 
mind  is  off  its  balance;  I  don't  know  how  much,  but 
it's  off  a  point  or  two,  sure;  off  enough  to  explain  this 
mess  of  perplexities,  anyway.  These  dreadful  chro- 
mos — which  he  takes  for  old  masters;  these  villainous 
portraits — which  to  his  frantic  mind  represent  Ross- 
mores;  the  hatchments;  the  pompous  name  of  this 
ramshackle  old  crib — Rossmore  Towers;  and  that 
odd  assertion  of  his,  that  I  was  expected.  How 
could  I  be  expected?  that  is,  Lord  Berkeley.  He 
knows  by  the  papers  that  that  person  was  burned 
up  in  the  New  Gadsby.  Why,  hang  it,  he  really 
doesn't  know  whom  he  was  expecting;  for  his  talk 
showed  that  he  was  not  expecting  an  Englishman,  or 
yet  an  artist,  yet  Fanswer  his  requirements  notwith- 
standing. He  seems  sufficiently  satisfied  with  me. 
Yes,  he  is  a  little  off;  in  fact,  I  am  afraid  he  is  a  good 
deal  off,  poor  old  gentleman.  But  he's  interesting — • 
all  people  in  about  his  condition  are,  I  suppose.  I 
hope  he'll  like  my  work;  I  would  like  to  come  every 
day  and  study  him.  And  when  I  write  my  father — 

1 80 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

ah,  that  hurts!  I  mustn't  get  on  that  subject;  it 
isn't  good  for  my  spirits.  Somebody  coming — I 
must  get  to  work.  It's  the  old  gentleman  again. 
He  looks  bothered.  Maybe  my  clothes  are  sus- 
picious; and  they  are — for  an  artist.  If  my  con- 
science would  allow  me  to  make  a  change — but  that 
is  out  of  the  question.  I  wonder  what  he's  making 
those  passes  in  the  air  for  with  his  hands.  I  seem  to 
be  the  object  of  them.  Can  he  be  trying  to  mes- 
merize me?  I  don't  quite  like  it.  There's  some- 
thing uncanny  about  it." 

The  Colonel  muttered  to  himself,  "It  has  an  effect 
on  him,  I  can  see  it  myself.  That's  enough  for  one 
time,  I  reckon.  He's  not  very  solid  yet,  I  suppose, 
and  I  might  disintegrate  him.  I'll  just  put  a  sly 
question  or  two  at  him  now,  and  see  if  I  can  find  out 
what  his  condition  is  and  where  he's  from." 

He  approached  and  said,  affably: 

"Don't  let  me  disturb  you,  Mr.  Tracy;  I  only 
want  to  take  a  little  glimpse  of  your  work.  Ah, 
that's  fine — that's  very  fine,  indeed.  You  are  doing 
it  elegantly.  My  daughter  will  be  charmed  with 
this.  May  I  sit  down  by  you?" 

"Oh,  do;  I  shall  be  glad." 

"It  won't  disturb  you?  I  mean,  won't  dissipate 
your  inspirations?" 

Tracy  laughed  and  said  they  were  not  ethereal 
enough  to  be  very  easily  discommoded. 

The  Colonel  asked  a  number  of  cautious  and  well- 
considered  questions — questions  which  seemed  pretty 
odd  and  flighty  to  Tracy  —  but  the  answers  con- 
veyed the  information  desired  apparently,  for  the 

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MARK    TWAIN 

Colonel  said  to  himself,  with  mixed  pride  and  grat- 
ification : 

"It's  a  good  job  as  far  as  I've  got  with  it.  He's 
solid.  Solid,  and  going  to  last;  solid  as  the  real 
thing.  It's  wonderful— rwonderful.  I  believe  I  could 
petrify  him." 

After  a  little  he  asked,  warily: 

"Do  you  prefer  being  here,  or — or  there?" 

"There?    Where?" 

' '  Why — er — where  you've  been  ?" 

Tracy's  thought  flew  to  his  boarding-house,  and  he 
answered  with  decision: 

"Oh,  here,  much!" 

The  Colonel  was  startled,  and  said  to  himself, 
"There's  no  uncertain  ring  about  that.  It  indicates 
where  lie's  been  to,  poor  fellow.  Well,  I  am  satisfied 
now.  I'm  glad  I  got  him  out." 

He  sat  thinking  and  thinking,  and  watching  the 
brush  go.  At  length  he  said  to  himself,  "Yes,  it- 
certainly  seems  to  account  for  the  failure  of  my 
endeavors  in  poor  Berkeley's  case.  He  went  in  the 
other  direction.  Well,  it's  all  right.  He's  better  off." 

Sally  Sellers  entered  from  the  street  now,  looking 
her  divinest,  and  the  artist  was  introduced  to  her. 
It  was  a  violent  case  of  mutual  love  at  first  sight, 
though  neither  party  was  entirely  aware  of  the  fact, 
perhaps.  The  Englishman  made  this  irrelevant  re- 
mark to  himself:  "Perhaps  he  is  not  insane,  after 
all."  Sally  sat  down  and  showed  an  interest  in 
Tracy's  work  which  greatly  pleased  him,  and  a 
benevolent  forgiveness  of  it  which  convinced  him 
that  the  girl's  nature  was  cast  in  a  large  mold, 

183 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

Sellers  was  anxious  to  report  his  discoveries  to 
Hawkins;  so  he  took  his  leave,  saying  that  if  the  two 
"young  devotees  of  the  colored  Muse"  thought  they 
could  manage  without  him,  he  would  go  and  look 
after  his  affairs.  The  artist  said  to  himself,  "I 
think  he  is  a  little  eccentric,  perhaps,  but  that  is 
all."  He  reproached  himself  for  having  injuriously 
judged  a  man  without  giving  him  any  fair  chance 
to  show  what  he  really  was. 

Of  course  the  stranger  was  very  soon  at  his  ease 
and  chatting  along  comfortably.  The  average 
American  girl  possesses  the  valuable  qualities  of 
naturalness,  honesty,  and  inoffensive  straightfor- 
wardness; she  is  nearly  barren  of  troublesome  con- 
ventions and  artificialities;  consequently,  her  pres- 
ence and  her  ways  are  unembarrassing,  and  one  is 
acquainted  with  her  and  on  the  pleasantest  terms 
with  her  before  he  knows  how  it  came  about.  This 
new  acquaintanceship  —  friendship,  indeed  —  pro- 
gressed swiftly;  and  the  unusual  swiftness  of  it  and 
the  thoroughness  of  it  are  sufficiently  evidenced  and 
established  by  one  noteworthy  fact — that  within  the 
first  half-hour  both  parties  had  ceased  to  be  con- 
scious of  Tracy's  clothes.  Later  this  consciousness 
was  reawakened;  it  was  then  apparent  to  Gwendolen 
that  she  was  almost  reconciled  to  them,  and  it  was 
apparent  to  Tracy  that  he  wasn't.  The  reawakening 
was  brought  about  by  Gwendolen's  inviting  the  ar- 
tist to  stay  to  dinner.  He  had  to  decline  because 
he  wanted  to  live  now — that  is,  now  that  there  was 
something  to  live  for — and  he  could  not  survive  in 
those  clothes  at  a  gentleman's  table.  He  thought  he 

183 


MARK   TWAIN 

knew  that.  But  he  went  away  happy,  for  he  saw 
that  Gwendolen  was  disappointed. 

And  whither  did  he  go?  He  went  straight  to  a 
slop-shop  and  bought  as  neat  and  reasonably  well- 
fitting  a  suit  of  clothes  as  an  Englishman  could  be 
persuaded  to  wear.  He  said — to  himself,  but  at  his 
conscience — "I  know  it's  wrong;  but  it  would  be 
wrong  not  to  do  it;  and  two  wrongs  do  not  make  a 
right." 

This  satisfied  him,  and  made  his  heart  light. 
Perhaps  it  will  also  satisfy  the  reader — if  he  can 
make  out  what  it  means. 

The  old  people  were  troubled  about  Gwendolen  at 
dinner,  because  she  was  so  distraught  and  silent. 
If  they  had  noticed,  they  would  have  found  that  she 
was  sufficiently  alert  and  interested  whenever  the 
talk  stumbled  upon  the  artist  and  his  work;  but  they 
didn't  notice,  and  so  the  chat  would  swap  around  to 
some  other  subject,  and  then  somebody  would  pres- 
ently be  privately  worrying  about  Gwendolen  again, 
and  wondering  if  she  were  not  well,  or  if  something 
had  gone  wrong  in  the  millinery  line.  Her  mother 
offered  her  various  reputable  patent  medicines  and 
tonics  with  iron  and  other  hardware  in  them,  and 
her  father  even  proposed  to  send  out  for  wine,  relent- 
less prohibitionist  and  head  of  the  order  in  the 
District  of  Columbia  as  he  was,  but  these  kindnesses 
were  all  declined  —  thankfully,  but  with  decision. 
At  bedtime,  when  the  family  were  breaking  up  for 
the  night,  she  privately  looted  one  of  the  brushes, 
saying  to  herself,  "It's  the  one  he  has  used  the  most." 

The  next  morning  Tracy  went  forth  wearing  his 
184 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

new  suit,  and  equipped  with  a  pink  in  his  button- 
hole— a  daily  attention  from  Puss.  His  whole  soul 
was  full  of  Gwendolen  Sellers,  and  this  condition  was 
an  inspiration,  art-wise.  All  the  morning  his  brush 
pawed  nimbly  away  at  the  canvases,  almost  without 
his  awarity  (awarity,  in  this  sense,  being  the  sense 
of  being  aware,  though  disputed  by  some  authori- 
ties), turning  out  marvel  upon  marvel,  in  the  way 
of  decorative  accessories  to  the  portraits,  with  a 
felicity  and  celerity  which  amazed  the  veterans  of 
the  firm  and  fetched  out  of  them  continuous  explo- 
sions of  applause. 

Meantime  Gwendolen  was  losing  her  morning  and 
many  dollars.  She  supposed  Tracy  was  coming  in 
the  forenoon — a  conclusion  which  she  had  jumped 
to  without  outside  help.  So  she  tripped  down-stairs 
every  little  while  from  her  work-parlor  to  arrange 
the  brushes  and  things  over  again  and  see  if  he  had 
arrived.  And  when  she  was  in  her  work-parlor  it 
was  not  profitable,  but  just  the  other  way — as  she 
found  out  to  her  sorrow.  She  had  put  in  her  idle 
moments  during  the  last  little  while  back  in  designing 
a  particularly  rare  and  capable  gown  for  herself,  and 
this  morning  she  set  about  making  it  up;  but  she  was 
absent-minded,  and  made  an  irremediable  botch  of 
it.  When  she  saw  what  she  had  done  she  knew  the 
reason  of  it  and  the  meaning  of  it,  and  she  put  her 
work  away  from  her  and  said  she  would  accept  the 
sign.  And  from  that  time  forth  she  came  no  more 
away  from  the  Audience  Chamber,  but  remained 
there  and  waited.  After  luncheon  she  waited  again. 
A  whole  hour.  Then  a  great  joy  welled  up  in  her 

185 


MARK    TWAIN 

heart,  for  she  saw  him  coming.  So  she  flew  back 
upstairs  thankful,  and  could  hardly  wait  for  him  to 
miss  the  principal  brush,  which  she  had  mislaid  down 
there,  but  knew  where  she  had  mislaid  it.  However, 
all  in  good  time,  the  others  were  called  in  and 
couldn't  find  the  brush,  and  then  she  was  sent  for, 
and  she  couldn't  find  it  herself  for  some  little  time; 
but  then  she  found  it  when  the  others  had  gone 
away  to  hunt  in  the  kitchen  and  down  cellar  and  in 
the  woodshed,  and  all  those  other  places  where 
people  look  for  things  whose  ways  they  are  not 
familiar  with.  So  she  gave  him  the  brush,  and  re- 
marked that  she  ought  to  have  seen  that  everything 
was  ready  for  him,  but  it  hadn't  seemed  necessary, 
because  it  was  so  early  that  she  wasn't  expecting — 
but  she  stopped  there,  surprised  at  herself  for  what 
she  was  saying;  and  he  felt  caught  and  ashamed,  and 
said  to  himself,  "I  knew  my  impatience  would  drag 
me  here  before  I  was  expected  and  betray  me,  and 
that  is  just  what  it  has  done;  she  sees  straight 
through  me — and  is  laughing  at  me  inside,  of  course." 

Gwendolen  was  very  much  pleased  on  one  account, 
and  a  little  the  other  way  in  another;  pleased  with 
the  new  clothes  and  the  improvement  which  they  had 
achieved;  less  pleased  by  the  pink  in  the  buttonhole. 
Yesterday's  pink  had  hardly  interested  her;  this  one 
was  just  like  it,  but  somehow  it  had  got  her  imme- 
diate attention,  and  kept  it.  She  wished  she  could 
think  of  some  way  of  getting  at  its  history  in  a 
properly  colorless  and  indifferent  way.  Presently 
she  made  a  venture.  She  said: 

"Whatever  a  man's  age  may  be,  he  can  reduce  it 
186 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

several  years  by  putting  a  bright-colored  flower  in 
his  buttonhole.  I  have  often  noticed  that.  Is  that 
your  sex's  reason  for  wearing  a  boutonni&re?" 

"I  fancy  not,  but  certainly  that  reason  would  be  a 
sufficient  one.  I've  never  heard  of  the  idea  before." 

"You  seem  to  prefer  pinks.  Is  it  on  account  of 
the  color,  or  the  form?" 

"Oh,  no,"  he  said,  simply,  "they  are  given  to  me. 
I  don't  think  I  have  any  preference." 

"They  are  given  to  him,"  she  said  to  herself,  and 
she  felt  a  coldness  toward  that  pink.  "I  wonder 
who  it  is,  and  what  she  is  like."  The  flower  began 
to  take  up  a  good  deal  of  room;  it  obtruded  itself 
everywhere;  it  intercepted  all  views,  and  marred 
them;  it  was  becoming  exceedingly  annoying  and 
conspicuous  for  a  little  thing.  "I  wonder  if  he  cares 
for  her."  That  thought  gave  her  a  quite  definite 
pain. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

SHE  had  made  everything  comfortable  for  the 
artist;  there  was  no  further  pretext  for  staying. 
So  she  said  she  would  go  now,  and  asked  him  to 
summon  the  servants  in  case  he  should  need  any- 
thing. She  went  away  unhappy,  and  she  left  un- 
happiness  behind  her;  for  she  carried  away  all  the 
sunshine.  The  time  dragged  heavily  for  both  now. 
He  couldn't  paint  for  thinking  of  her;  she  couldn't 
design  or  millinerize  with  any  heart  for  thinking  of 
him.  Never  before  had  painting  seemed  so  empty 
to  him,  never  before  had  millinerizing  seemed  so  void 
of  interest  to  her.  She  had  gone  without  repeating 
that  dinner  invitation — an  almost  unendurable  dis- 
appointment to  him.  On  her  part — well,  she  was 
suffering,  too;  for  she  had  found  she  couldn't  invite 
him.  It  was  not  hard  yesterday,  but  it  was  impossi- 
ble to-day.  A  thousand  innocent  privileges  seemed 
to  have  been  niched  from  her  unawares  in  the  past 
twenty-four  hours.  To-day  she  felt  strangely  ham- 
pered, restrained  of  her  liberty.  To-day  she  couldn't 
propose  to  herself  to  do  anything  or  say  anything 
concerning  this  young  man  without  being  instantly 
paralyzed  into  non-action  by  the  fear  that  he  might 
"suspect."  Invite  him  to  dinner  to-day?  It 
her  shiver  to  think  of  it. 

188 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

And  so  her  afternoon  was  one  long  fret — broken 
at  intervals.  Three  times  she  had  to  go  down-stairs 
on  errands — that  is,  she  thought  she  had  to  go  down- 
stairs on  errands.  Thus,  going  and  coming,  she  had 
six  glimpses  of  him  in  the  aggregate,  without  seeming 
to  look  in  his  direction;  and  she  tried  to  endure  these 
electric  ecstasies  without  showing  any  sign,  but  they 
fluttered  her  up  a  good  deal,  and  she  felt  that  the 
naturalness  she  was  putting  on  was  overdone  and 
quite  too  frantically  sober  and  hysterically  calm  to 
deceive. 

The  painter  had  his  share  of  the  rapture;  he  had 
his  six  glimpses,  and  they  smote  him  with  waves  of 
pleasure  that  assaulted  him,  beat  upon  him,  washed 
over  him  deliciously,  and  drowned  out  all  con- 
sciousness of  what  he  was  doing  with  his  brush.  So 
there  were  six  places  in  his  canvas  which  had  to  be 
done  over  again. 

At  last  Gwendolen  got  some  peace  of  mind  by 
sending  word  to  the  Thompsons,  in  the  neighborhood, 
that  she  was  coming  there  to  dinner.  She  wouldn't 
be  reminded,  at  that  table,  that  there  was  an  absentee 
who  ought  to  be  a  presentee — a  word  which  she 
meant  to  look  out  in  the  dictionary  at  a  calmer  time. 

About  this  time  the  old  earl  dropped  in  for  a  chat 
with  the  artist,  and  invited  him  to  stay  to  dinner. 
Tracy  cramped  down  his  joy  and  gratitude  by  a 
sudden  and  powerful  exercise  of  all  his  forces;  and 
he  felt  that  now  that  he  was  going  to  be  close  to 
Gwendolen,  and  hear  her  voice  and  watch  her  face 
during  several  precious  hours,  earth  had  nothing 
valuable  to  add  to  his  life  for  the  present. 

189 


MARK    TWAIN 

The  earl  said  to  himself,  "This  specter  can  eat 
apples,  apparently.  We  shall  find  out  now  if  that 
is  a  specialty.  I  think,  myself,  it's  a  specialty. 
Apples,  without  doubt,  constitute  the  spectral  limit. 
It  was  the  case  with  our  first  parents.  No,  I  am 
wrong — at  least,  only  partly  right.  The  line  was 
drawn  at  apples,  just  as  in  the  present  case,  but  it 
was  from  the  other  direction."  The  new  clothes 
gave  him  a  thrill  of  pleasure  and  pride.  He  said  to 
himself,  "I've  got  part  of  him  down  to  date,  any- 
way." 

Sellers  said  he  was  pleased  with  Tracy's  work;  and 
he  went  on  and  engaged  him  to  restore  his  old 
masters,  and  said  he  should  also  want  him  to  paint 
his  portrait  and  his  wife's  and  possibly  his  daughter's. 
The  tide  of  the  artist's  happiness  was  at  flood  now. 
The  chat  flowed  pleasantly  along  while  Tracy  painted 
and  Sellers  carefully  unpacked  a  picture  which  he 
had  brought  with  him.  It  was  a  chromo;  a  new  one, 
just  out.  It  was  the  smirking,  self-satisfied  portrait 
of  a  man  who  was  inundating  the  Union  with  adver- 
tisements inviting  everybody  to  buy  his  specialty, 
which  was  a  three-dollar  shoe  or  a  dress-suit  or  some- 
thing of  that  kind.  The  old  gentleman  rested  the 
chromo  flat  upon  his  lap  and  gazed  down  tenderly 
upon  it,  and  became  silent  and  meditative.  Pres- 
ently Tracy  noticed  that  he  was  dripping  tears  on 
it.  This  touched  the  young  fellow's  sympathetic 
nature,  and  at  the  same  time  gave  him  the  painful 
sense  of  being  an  intruder  upon  a  sacred  privacy,  an 
observer  of  emotions  which  a  stranger  ought  not  to 
witness.  But  this  pity  rose  superior  to  other  con- 

190 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

siderations,  and  compelled  him  to  try  to  comfort  the 
old  mourner  with  kindly  words  and  a  show  of 
friendly  interest.  He  said: 

"I  am  very  sorry — is  it  a  friend  whom — " 

"Ah,  more  than  that,  far  more  than  that — a 
relative,  the  dearest  I  had  on  earth,  although  I  was 
never  permitted  to  see  him.  Yes,  it  is  young  Lord 
Berkeley,  who  perished  so  heroically  in  the  awful 
confla —  Why,  what  is  the  matter?" 

"Oh,  nothing,  nothing.  It  was  a  little  startling 
to  be  so  suddenly  brought  face  to  face,  so  to  speak, 
with  a  person  one  has  heard  so  much  talk  about. 
Is  it  a  good  likeness?" 

"Without  doubt,  yes.  I  never  saw  him,  but  you 
can  easily  see  the  resemblance  to  his  father,"  said 
Sellers,  holding  up  the  chromo,  and  glancing  from  it 
to  the  chromo  misrepresenting  the  Usurping  Earl, 
and  back  again  with  an  approving  eye. 

"Well,  no — I  am  not  sure  that  I  make  out  the 
likeness.  It  is  plain  that  the  Usurping  Earl  there  has 
a  great  deal  of  character  and  a  long  face  like  a 
horse's,  whereas  his  heir  here  is  smirky,  moon-faced, 
and  characterless." 

"We  are  all  that  way  in  the  beginning — all  the 
line,"  said  Sellers,  undisturbed.  "We  all  start  as 
moon-faced  fools,  then  later  we  tadpole  along  into 
horse-faced  marvels  of  intellect  and  character.  It 
is  by  that  sign  and  by  that  fact  that  I  detect  the 
resemblance  here,  and  know  this  portrait  to  be  genuine 
and  perfect.  Yes,  all  our  family  are  fools  at  first." 

"This  young  man  seems  to  meet  the  hereditary 
requirement,  certainly." 
.*3»  191 


MARK   TWAIN 

"Yes,  yes,  he  was  a  fool,  without  any  doubt. 
Examine  the  face,  the  shape  of  the  head,  the  expres- 
sion. It's  all  fool,  fool,  fool,  straight  through." 

"Thanks,"  said  Tracy,  involuntarily. 

"Thanks?" 

"I  mean  for  explaining  it  to  me.     Go  on,  please." 

"As  I  was  saying,  fool  is  printed  all  over  the  face. 
A  body  can  even  read  the  details." 

"What  do  they  say?" 

"Well,  added  up,  he  is  a  wobbler." 

"A  which?" 

"Wobbler.  A  person  that's  always  taking  a  firm 
stand  about  something  or  other — kind  of  a  Gibraltar 
stand,  he  thinks,  for  unshakable  fidelity  and  ever- 
lastingness — and  then,  inside  of  a  little  while,  he 
begins  to  wobble;  no  more  Gibraltar  there;  no,  sir, 
a  mighty  ordinary  commonplace  weakling  wobbling 
around  on  stilts.  That's  Lord  Berkeley  to  a  dot, 
you  can  see  it — look  at  that  sheep!  But — why  are 
you  blushing  like  sunset?  Dear  sir,  have  I  un- 
wittingly offended  in  some  way?" 

"Oh,  no  indeed,  no  indeed.  Far  from  it.  But  it 
always  makes  me  blush  to  hear  a  man  revile  his 
own  blood. ' '  He  said  to  himself,  * '  How  strangely  his 
vagrant  and  unguided  fancies  have  hit  upon  the 
truth.  By  accident  he  has  described  me.  I  am  that 
contemptible  thing.  When  I  left  England  I  thought 
I  knew  myself ;  I  thought  I  was  a  very  Frederick  the 
Great  for  resolution  and  staying  capacity;  whereas 
in  truth  I  am  just  a  Wobbler,  simply  a  Wobbler. 
Well — after  all,  it  is  at  least  creditable  to  have  high 
ideals  and  give  birth  to  lofty  resolutions ;  I  will  allow 

192 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

myself  that  comfort."  Then  he  said,  aloud,  "Could 
this  sheep,  as  you  call  him,  breed  a  great  and  self- 
sacrificing  idea  in  his  head,  do  you  think?  Could  he 
meditate  such  a  thing,  for  instance,  as  the  renuncia- 
tion of  the  earldom  and  its  wealth  and  its  glories,  and 
voluntary  retirement  to  the  ranks  of  the  commonalty, 
there  to  rise  by  his  own  merit  or  remain  forever  poor 
and  obscure?" 

"Could  he?  Why,  look  at  him  —  look  at  this 
simpering,  self-righteous  mug!  There  is  your  an- 
swer. It's  the  very  thing  he  would  think  of.  And 
he  would  start  in  to  do  it,  too." 

"And  then?" 

"He'd  wobble." 

"And  back  down?" 

"Every  time." 

"Is  that  to  happen  with  all  my — I  mean  would 
that  happen  to  all  his  high  resolutions?" 

"Oh,  certainly  —  certainly.  It's  the  Rossmore 
of  it." 

"Then  this  creature  was  fortunate  to  die!  Sup- 
pose, for  argument's  sake,  that  I  was  a  Rossmore, 
and—" 

"It  can't  be  done." 

"Why?" 

"Because  it's  not  a  supposable  case.  To  be  a 
Rossmore  at  your  age  you'd  have  to  be  a  fool,  and 
you're  not  a  fool.  And  you'd  have  to  be  a  Wobbler, 
whereas  anybody  that  is  an  expert  in  reading  char- 
acter can  see  at  a  glance  that  when  you  set  your  foot 
down  once,  it's  there  to  stay;  an  earthquake  can't 
wobble  it."  He  added  to  himself,  "That's  enough 

193 


MARK    TWAIN 

to  say  to  him,  but  it  isn't  half  strong  enough  for  the 
facts.  The  more  I  observe  him  now  the  more  re- 
markable I  find  him.  It  is  the  strongest  face  I  have 
ever  examined.  There  is  almost  superhuman  firm- 
ness here,  immovable  purpose,  iron  steadfastness  of 
will.  A  most  extraordinary  young  man." 

He  presently  said,  aloud: 

"Some  time  I  want  to  ask  your  advice  about  a 
little  matter,  Mr.  Tracy.  You  see,  I've  got  that 
young  lord's  remains — my  goodness,  how  you  jump !" 

"Oh,  it's  nothing,  pray  go  on.  You've  got  his 
remains?" 

"Yes." 

"Are  you  sure  they  are  his,  and  not  somebody 
else's?" 

"Oh,  perfectly  sure.  Samples,  I  mean.  Not  all 
of  him." 

"Samples?" 

"Yes — in  baskets.  Some  time  you  will  be  going 
home;  and  if  you  wouldn't  mind  taking  them 
along — " 

"Who?    I?" 

"Yes — certainly.  I  don't  mean  now ;  but  after  a 
while;  after — but  look  here,  would  you  like  to  see 
them?" 

"No!  Most  certainly  not.  I  don't  want  to  see 
them." 

"Oh,  very  well.  I  only  thought —  Heyo,  where 
are  you  going,  dear?" 

"Out  to  dinner,  papa." 

Tracy  was  aghast.  The  Colonel  said,  in  a  disap- 
pointed voice: 

194 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"Well,  I'm  sorry.  Sho,  I  didn't  know  she  was 
going  out,  Mr.  Tracy."  Gwendolen's  face  began  to 
take  on  a  sort  of  apprehensive  What-have-I-done 
expression.  "Three  old  people  to  one  young  one — 
well,  it  isn't  a  good  team,  that's  a  fact."  Gwendolen's 
face  betrayed  a  dawning  hopefulness,  and  she  said, 
with  a  tone  of  reluctance  which  hadn't  the  hall- 
mark on  it : 

"If  you  prefer,  I  will  send  word  to  the  Thompsons 
that  I—" 

"Oh,  is  it  the  Thompsons?  That  simplifies  it — 
sets  everything  right.  We  can  fix  it  without  spoil- 
ing your  arrangements,  my  child.  You've  got  your 
heart  set  on — " 

"But,  papa,  I'd  just  as  soon  go  there  some  other — " 

"No,  I  won't  have  it.  You  are  a  good,  hard-work- 
ing, darling  child,  and  your  father  is  not  the  man  to 
disappoint  you  when  you — " 

"But,  papa,  I—" 

"Go  along,  I  won't  hear  a  word.  We'll  get  along, 
dear." 

Gwendolen  was  ready  to  cry  with  vexation.  But 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  start;  which  she  was 
about  to  do  when  her  father  hit  upon  an  idea  which 
filled  him  with  delight  because  it  so  deftly  covered 
all  the  difficulties  of  the  situation,  and  made  things 
smooth  and  satisfactory: 

"I've  got  it,  my  love,  so  that  you  won't  be  robbed 
of  your  holiday,  and  at  the  same  time  we'll  be 
pretty  satisfactorily  fixed  for  a  good  time  here. 
You  send  Belle  Thompson  here — perfectly  beautiful 
creature,  Tracy,  per-fectly  beautiful.  I  want  you  to 

195 


see  that  girl;  why,  you'll  just  go  mad — you'll  go  mad 
inside  of  a  minute.  Yes,  you  send  her  right  along, 
Gwendolen,  and  tell  her —  Why,  she's  gone!"  He 
turned — she  was  already  passing  out  at  the  gate. 
He  muttered,  "I  wonder  what's  the  matter;  I  don't 
know  what  her  mouth's  doing,  but  I  think  her  shoul- 
ders are  swearing.  Well,"  said  Sellers,  blithely,  to 
Tracy,  "I  shall  miss  her — parents  always  miss  the 
children  as  soon  as  they're  out  of  sight;  it's  only  a 
natural  and  wisely  ordained  partiality;  but  you'll  be 
all  right,  because  Miss  Belle  will  supply  the  youthful 
element  for  you  and  to  your  entire  content;  and  we 
old  people  will  do  our  best,  too.  We  shall  have  a 
good  enough  time.  And  you'll  have  a  chance  to  get 
better  acquainted  with  Admiral  Hawkins.  That's 
a  rare  character,  Mr.  Tracy — one  of  the  rarest  and 
most  engaging  characters  the  world  has  produced. 
You'll  find  him  worth  studying.  I've  studied  him 
ever  since  he  was  a  child,  and  have  always  found 
him  developing.  I  realty  consider  that  one  of  the 
main  things  that  have  enabled  me  to  master  the  dif- 
ficult science  of  character  -  reading  was  the  vivid 
interest  I  always  felt  in  that  boy,  and  the  baffling 
inscrutabilities  of  his  ways  and  inspirations." 

Tracy  was  not  hearing  a  word.  His  spirits  were 
gone,  he  was  desolate. 

"Yes,  a  most  wonderful  character.  Concealment 
— that's  the  basis  of  it.  Always  the  first  thing  you 
want  to  do  is  to  find  the  keystone  a  man's  character 
is  built  on  —  then  you've  got  it.  No  misleading 
and  apparently  inconsistent  peculiarities  can  fool  you 
then.  What  do  you  read  on  the  Senator's  surface? 

ig6 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

Simplicity — a  kind  of  rank  and  protuberant  simplic- 
ity; whereas,  in  fact,  that's  one  of  the  deepest  minds 
in  the  world.  A  perfectly  honest  man — an  abso- 
lutely honest  and  honorable  man — and  yet,  without 
doubt,  the  profoundest  master  of  dissimulation  the 
world  has  ever  seen." 

"Oh,  it's  devilish!"  This  was  wrung  from  the 
unlistening  Tracy  by  the  anguished  thought  of  what 
might  have  been  if  only  the  dinner  arrangements 
hadn't  got  mixed. 

"No,  I  shouldn't  call  it  that,"  said  Sellers,  who 
was  now  placidly  walking  up  and  down  the  room  with 
his  hands  under  his  coat-tails  and  listening  to  him- 
self talk.  "One  could  quite  properly  call  it  devilish 
in  another  man,  but  not  in  the  Senator.  Your  term 
is  right,  perfectly  right — I  grant  that;  but  the  ap- 
plication is  wrong.  It  makes  a  great  difference. 
Yes,  he  is  a  marvelous  character.  I  do  not  suppose 
that  any  other  statesman  ever  had  such  a  colossal 
sense  of  humor,  combined  with  the  ability  to  totally 
conceal  it.  I  may  except  George  Washington  and 
Cromwell,  and  perhaps  Robespierre,  but  I  draw  the 
line  there.  A  person  not  an  expert  might  be  in  Judge 
Hawkins's  company  a  lifetime  and  never  find  out  he 
had  any  more  sense  of  humor  than  a  cemetery." 

A  deep-drawn,  yard-long  sigh  from  the  distraught 
and  dreaming  artist,  followed  by  a  murmured 
"Miserable,  oh,  miserable!" 

"Well,  no,  I  shouldn't  say  that  about  it,  quite. 
On  the  contrary,  I  admire  his  ability  to  conceal  his 
humor  even  more  if  possible  than  I  admire  the  gift 
itself,  stupendous  as  it  is.  Another  thing — General 

197 


MARK    TWAIN 

Hawkins  is  a  thinker;  a  keen,  logical,  exhaustive, 
analytical  thinker — perhaps  the  ablest  of  modern 
times.  That  is,  of  course,  upon  themes  suited  to 
his  size,  like  the  glacial  period,  and  the  correlation  of 
forces,  and  the  evolution  of  the  Christian  from  the 
caterpillar — any  of  those  things;  give  him  a  subject 
according  to  his  size,  and  just  stand  back  and  watch 
him  think!  Why,  you  can  see  the  place  rock!  Ah, 
yes,  you  must  know  him;  you  must  get  on  the  inside 
of  him.  Perhaps  the  most  extraordinary  mind  since 
Aristotle." 

Dinner  was  kept  waiting  for  a  while  for  Miss 
Thompson,  but  as  Gwendolen  had  not  delivered  the 
invitation  to  her  the  waiting  did  no  good,  and  the 
household  presently  went  to  the  meal  without  her. 
Poor  old  Sellers  tried  everything  his  hospitable  soul 
could  devise  to  make  the  occasion  an  enjoyable  one 
for  the  guest,  and  the  guest  tried  his  honest  best  to 
be  cheery  and  chatty  and  happy  for  the  old  gentle- 
man's sake;  in  fact,  all  hands  worked  hard  in  the 
interest  of  a  mutual  good  time,  but  the  thing  was  a 
failure  from  the  start;  Tracy's  heart  was  lead  in  his 
bosom;  there  seemed  to  be  only  one  prominent  fea- 
ture in  the  landscape,  and  that  was  a  vacant  chair; 
he  couldn't  drag  his  mind  away  from  Gwendolen  and 
his  hard  luck;  consequently,  his  distractions  allowed 
deadly  pauses  to  slip  in  every  now  and  then  when 
it  was  his  turn  to  say  something,  and  of  course  this 
disease  spread  to  the  rest  of  the  conversation — 
wherefore,  instead  of  having  a  breezy  sail  in  sunny 
waters,  as  anticipated,  everybody  was  bailing  out  and 
praying  for  land.  What  could  the  matter  be?  Tracy 

198 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

alone  could  have  told,  the  others  couldn't  even  invent 
a  theory. 

Meanwhile  they  were  having  a  similarly  dismal 
time  at  the  Thompson  house;  in  fact,  a  twin  experi- 
ence. Gwendolen  was  ashamed  of  herself  for  allow- 
ing her  disappointment  to  so  depress  her  spirits,  and 
make  her  so  strangely  and  profoundly  miserable;  but 
feeling  ashamed  of  herself  didn't  improve  the  matter 
any;  it  only  seemed  to  aggravate  the  suffering.  She 
explained  that  she  was  not  feeling  very  well,  and 
everybody  could  see  that  this  was  true;  so  she  got 
sincere  sympathy  and  commiseration;  but  that 
didn't  help  the  case.  Nothing  helps  that  kind  of  a 
case.  It  is  best  to  just  stand  off  and  let  it  fester. 
The  moment  the  dinner  was  over  the  girl  excused 
herself,  and  she  hurried  home,  feeling  unspeakably 
grateful  to  get  away  from  that  house  and  that  intol- 
erable captivity  and  suffering. 

Will  he  be  gone?  The  thought  arose  in  her  brain 
but  took  effect  in  her  heels.  She  slipped  into  the 
house,  threw  off  her  things,  and  made  straight  for 
the  dining-room.  She  stopped  and  listened.  Her 
father's  voice — with  no  life  in  it;  presently  her 
mother's — no  life  in  that;  a  considerable  vacancy, 
then  a  sterile  remark  from  Washington  Hawkins. 
Another  silence;  then,  not  Tracy's,  but  her  father's 
voice  again. 

t  "He's  gone,"  she  said  to  herself,  despairingly,  and 
listlessly  opened  the  door  and  stepped  within. 

"Why,  my  child,"  cried  the  mother,  "how  white 
you  are!  Are  you — has  anything — " 

"White?"  exclaimed  Sellers.     "It's  gone  like  a 
199 


MARK     TWAIN 

flash;  'twasn't  serious.  Already  she's  as  red  as  the 
soul  of  a  watermelon!  Sit  down,  dear,  sit  down — 
goodness  knows  you're  welcome.  Did  you  have  a 
good  time?  We've  had  great  times  here — immense. 
Why  didn't  Miss  Belle  come?  Mr.  Tracy  is  not 
feeling  well,  and  she'd  have  made  him  forget  it." 

She  was  content  now;  and  out  from  her  happy  eyes 
there  went  a  light  that  told  a  secret  to  another  pair 
of  eyes  there  and  got  a  secret  in  return.  In  just  that 
infinitely  small  fraction  of  a  second  those  two  great 
confessions  were  made,  received,  and  perfectly  under- 
stood. All  anxiety,  apprehension,  uncertainty,  van- 
ished out  of  these  young  people's  hearts  and  left  them 
filled  with  a  great  peace. 

Sellers  had  had  the  most  confident  faith  that  with 
the  new  reinforcement  victory  would  be  at  this  last 
moment  snatched  from  the  jaws  of  defeat,  but  it  was 
an  error.  The  talk  was  as  stubbornly  disjointed  as 
ever.  He  was  proud  of  Gwendolen,  and  liked  to 
show  her  off,  even  against  Miss  Belle  Thompson,  and 
here  had  been  a  great  opportunity,  and  what  had  she 
made  of  it?  He  felt  a  good  deal  put  out.  It  vexed 
him  to  think  that  this  Englishman,  with  the  traveling 
Briton's  everlasting  disposition  to  generalize  whole 
mountain  ranges  from  single  sample-grains  of  sand, 
would  jump  to  the  conclusion  that  American  girls 
were  as  dumb  as  himself — generalizing  the  whole 
tribe  from  this  single  sample,  and  she  at  her  poorest, 
there  being  nothing  at  that  table  to  inspire  her,  give 
her  a  start,  keep  her  from  going  to  sleep.  He  made 
up  his  mind  that  for  the  honor  of  the  country  he 
would  bring  these  two  together  again  over  the  social 

ffOQ 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

board  before  long.  There  would  be  a  different  result 
another  time,  he  judged.  He  said  to  himself,  with 
a  deep  sense  of  injury,  "He'll  put  in  his  diary — they 
all  keep  diaries — he'll  put  in  his  diary  that  she  was 
miraculously  uninteresting — dear,  dear,  but  wasn't 
she ! — I  never  saw  the  like — and  yet  looking  as  beau- 
tiful as  Satan,  too — and  couldn't  seem  to  do  any- 
thing but  paw  bread-crumbs,  and  pick  flowers  to 
pieces,  and  look  fidgety.  And  it  isn't  any  better 
here  in  the  Hall  of  Audience.  I've  had  enough;  I'll 
haul  down  my  flag;  the  others  may  fight  it  out  if 
they  want  to." 

He  shook  hands  all  around  and  went  off  to  do  some 
work  which  he  said  was  pressing.  The  idolaters  were 
the  width  of  the  room  apart,  and  apparently  uncon- 
scious of  each  other's  presence.  The  distance  got 
shortened  a  little  now.  Very  soon  the  mother  with- 
drew. The  distance  narrowed  again.  Tracy  stood 
before  a  chromo  of  some  Ohio  politician  which  had 
been  retouched  and  chain-mailed  for  a  crusading 
Rossmore,  and  Gwendolen  was  sitting  on  the  sofa 
not  far  from  his  elbow,  artificially  absorbed  in  exam- 
ining a  photograph -album  that  hadn't  any  photo- 
graphs in  it. 

The  "Senator"  still  lingered.  He  was  sorry  for 
the  young  people;  it  had  been  a  dull  evening  for 
them.  In  the  goodness  of  his  heart  he  tried  to  make 
it  pleasant  for  them  now;  tried  to  remove  the  ill 
impression  necessarily  left  by  the  general  defeat; 
tried  to  be  chatty,  even  tried  to  be  gay.  But  the 
responses  were  sickly,  there  was  no  starting  any 
enthusiasm;  he  would  give  it  up  and  quit — it  was 

201 


MARK    TWAIN 

a  day  specially  picked  out  and  consecrated  to  fail- 
ures. 

But  when  Gwendolen  rose  up  promptly  and  smiled 
a  glad  smile,  and  said,  with  thankfulness  and  blessing, 
"Must  you  go?"  it  seemed  cruel  to  desert,  and  he  sat 
down  again. 

He  was  about  to  begin  a  remark  when — when  he 
didn't.  We  have  all  been  there.  He  didn't  know 
how  he  knew  his  concluding  to  stay  longer  had  been 
a  mistake,  he  merely  knew  it;  and  knew  it  for  dead 
certain,  too.  And  so  he  bade  good  night  and  went 
mooning  out,  wondering  what  he  could  have  done 
that  changed  the  atmosphere  that  way.  As  the  door 
closed  behind  him  those  two  were  standing  side  by 
side,  looking  at  that  door — looking  at  it  in  a  waiting, 
second-counting,  but  deeply  grateful  kind  of  way. 
And  the  instant  it  closed  they  flung  their  arms  about 
each  other's  necks,  and  there,  heart  to  heart  and  lip 
to  lip — 

"Oh,  my  God,  she's  kissing  It!" 

Nobody  heard  this  remark,  because  Hawkins,  who 
bred  it,  only  thought  it;  he  didn't  utter  it.  He  had 
turned  the  moment  he  had  closed  the  door,  and  had 
pushed  it  open  a  little,  intending  to  re-enter  and 
ask  what  ill-advised  thing  he  had  done  or  said,  and 
apologize  for  it.  But  he  didn't  re-enter;  he  stag- 
gered off  stunned,  terrified,  distressed. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

FIVE  minutes  later  he  was  sitting  in  his  room, 
with  his  head  bowed  within  the  circle  of  his 
arms,  on  the  table — final  attitude  of  grief  and 
despair.  His  tears  were  flowing  fast,  and  now  and 
then  a  sob  broke  upon  the  stillness.  Presently  he 
said: 

"I  knew  her  when  she  was  a  little  child  and  used  to 
climb  about  my  knees ;  I  love  her  as  I  love  my  own, 
and  now — oh,  poor  thing,  poor  thing,  I  cannot  bear 
it! — she's  gone  and  lost  her  heart  to  this  mangy 
materialized  Why  didn't  we  see  that  that  might 
happen?  But  how  could  we?  Nobody  could;  nobody 
could  ever  have  dreamed  of  such  a  thing.  You 
couldn't  expect  a  person  would  fall  in  love  with  a 
wax-work.  And  this  one  doesn't  even  amount  to 
that." 

He  went  on  grieving  to  himself,  and  now  and  then 
giving  voice  to  his  lamentations. 

"It's  done,  oh,  it's  done,  and  there's  no  help  for  it, 
no  undoing  the  miserable  business.  If  I  had  the 
nerve,  I  would  kill  It.  But  that  wouldn't  do  any 
good.  She  loves  It;  she  thinks  It's  genuine  and 
authentic.  If  she  lost  It  she  would  grieve  for  It  just 
as  she  would  for  a  real  person.  And  who's  to  break 
it  to  the  family?  Not  I — I'll  die  first.  Sellers  is  the 

203 


MARK    TWAIN 

best  human  being  I  ever  knew,  and  I  wouldn't  any 
more  think  of — oh,  dear,  why,  it  '11  break  his  heart 
when  he  finds  it  out.  And  Polly's,  too.  This  comes 
of  meddling  with  such  infernal  matters!  But  for  this 
the  creature  would  still  be  roasting  in  Sheol,  where 
It  belongs.  How  is  it  that  these  people  don't  smell 
the  brimstone?  Sometimes  I  can't  come  into  the 
same  room  with  him  without  nearly  suffocating." 

After  a  while  he  broke  out  again: 

"Well,  there's  one  thing  sure.  The  materializing 
has  got  to  stop  right  where  it  is.  If  she's  got  to  marry 
a  specter,  let  her  marry  a  decent  one  out  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  like  this  one — not  a  cowboy  and  a  thief 
such  as  this  protoplasmic  tadpole's  going  to  turn 
into  if  Sellers  keeps  on  fussing  at  It.  It  costs  five 
thousand  dollars  cash  and  shuts  down  on  the  incor- 
porated company  to  stop  the  works  at  this  point, 
but  Sally  Sellers's  happiness  is  worth  more  than 
that." 

He  heard  Sellers  coming,  and  got  himself  to  rights. 
Sellers  took  a  seat,  and  said: 

"Well,  I've  got  to  confess  I'm  a  good  deal  puzzled. 
It  did  certainly  eat,  there's  no  getting  around  it. 
Not  eat,  exactly,  either,  but  It  nibbled;  nibbled  in 
an  appetiteless  way,  but  still  It  nibbled;  and  that's 
just  a  marvel.  Now  the  question  is,  What  does  It 
do  with  those  nibblings?  That's  it — what  does  It 
do  with  them?  My  idea  is  that  we  don't  begin  to 
know  all  there  is  to  this  stupendous  discovery  yet. 
But  time  will  show — time  and  science — give  us  a 
chance,  and  don't  get  impatient." 

But  he  couldn't  get  Hawkins  interested;  couldn't 
204 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

make  him  talk  to  amount  to  anything;  couldn't  drag 
him  out  of  his  depression.  But  at  last  he  took  a  turn 
that  arrested  Hawkins's  attention. 

"I'm  coming  to  like  him,  Hawkins.  He  is  a  per- 
son of  stupendous  character  —  absolutely  gigantic. 
Under  that  placid  exterior  is  concealed  the  most 
dare-devil  spirit  that  was  ever  put  into  a  man;  he's 
just  a  Clive  over  again.  Yes,  I'm  all  admiration  for 
him  on  account  of  his  character,  and  liking  naturally 
follows  admiration,  you  know.  I'm  coming  to  like 
him  immensely.  Do  you  know,  I  haven't  the  heart 
to  degrade  such  a  character  as  that  down  to  the 
burglar  estate  for  money  or  for  anything  else;  and 
I've  come  to  ask  if  you  are  willing  to  let  the  reward 
go  and  leave  this  poor  fellow — " 
"Where  he  is?" 

"Yes — not  bring  him  down  to  date." 
"Oh,  there's  my  hand;  and  my  heart's  in  it,  too!" 
"I'll  never  forget  you  for  this,  Hawkins,"  said  the 
old  gentleman,  in  a  voice  which  he  found  it  hard  to 
control.     "You  are  making  a  great  sacrifice  for  me, 
and  one  which  you  can  ill  afford,  but  I'll  never 
forget  your  generosity,  and  if  I  live  you  shall  not 
suffer  for  it,  be  sure  of  that." 

Sally  Sellers  immediately  and  vividly  realized  that 
she  was  become  a  new  being;  a  being  of  a  far  higher 
and  worthier  sort  than  she  had  been  such  a  little 
while  before;  an  earnest  being,  in  place  of  a  dreamer; 
and  supplied  with  a  reason  for  her  presence  in  the 
world,  where  merely  a  wistful  and  troubled  curiosity 
flbout  it  had  existed  before.  So  great  and  so  com- 

205 


MARK    TWAINi 

prehensive  was  the  change  which  had  been  wrought 
that  she  seemed  to  herself  to  be  a  real  person  who 
had  lately  been  a  shadow;  a  something,  which  had 
lately  been  a  nothing;  a  purpose,  which  had  lately 
been  a  fancy;  a  finished  temple,  with  the  altar-fires 
lit  and  the  voice  of  worship  ascending,  where  before 
had  been  but  an  architect's  confusion  of  arid 'work- 
ing plans,  unintelligible  to  the  passing  eye  and 
prophesying  nothing. 

"Lady"  Gwendolen!  The  pleasantness  of  that 
sound  was  all  gone;  it  was  an  offense  to  her  ear  now. 
She  said: 

"There — that  sham  belongs  to  the  past;  I  will  not 
be  called  by  it  any  more." 

"I  may  call  you  simply  Gwendolen?  You  will 
allow  me  to  drop  the  formalities  straightway  and 
name  you  by  your  dear  first  name  without  additions  ?" 

She  was  dethroning  the  pink  and  replacing  it  with 
a  rosebud. 

' '  There — that  is  better.  I  hate  pinks — some  pinks. 
Indeed,  yes,  you  are  to  call  me  by  my  first  name  with- 
out additions — that  is — well,  I  don't  mean  without 
additions  entirely,  but — " 

It  was  as  far  as  she  could  get.  There  was  a  pause; 
his  intellect  was  struggling  to  comprehend;  presently 
it  did  manage  to'  catch  the  idea  in  time  to  save 
embarrassment  all  around,  and  he  said,  gratefully: 

"Dear  Gwendolen!    I  may  say  that?" 

"Yes — part  of  it.  But — don't  kiss  me  when  I  am 
talking;  it  makes  me  forget  what  I  was  going  to  say. 
You  can  call  mesby  part  of  that  form,  but  not  the 
last  part.  Gwendolen  is  not  my  name." 

206 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"Not  your  name?"  This  in  a  tone  of  wonder  and 
surprise. 

"The  girl's  soul  was  suddenly  invaded  by  a  creepy 
apprehension,  a  quite  definite  sense  of  suspicion  and 
alarm.  She  put  his  arms  away  from  her,  looked 
searchingly  in  his  eye,  and  said : 

"Answer  me  truly,  on  your  honor.  You  are 
not  seeking  to  marry  me  on  account  of  my 
rank? " 

The  shot  almost  knocked  him  through  the  wall, 
he  was  so  little  prepared  for  it.  There  was  some- 
thing so  finely  grotesque  about  the  question  and  its 
parent  suspicion  that  he  stopped  to  wonder  and 
admire,  and  thus  was  he  saved  from  laughing.  Then, 
without  wasting  precious  time,  he  set  about  the  task 
of  convincing  her  that  he  had  been  lured  by  herself 
alone,  and  had  fallen  in  love  with  her  only,  not  her 
title  and  position;  that  he  loved  her  with  all  his 
heart,  and  could  not  love  her  more  if  she  were  a 
duchess,  or  less  if  she  were  without  home,  name,  or 
family.  She  watched  his  face  wistfully,  eagerly, 
hopefully,  translating  his  words  by  its  expression; 
and  when  he  had  finished  there  was  gladness  in  her 
heart — a  tumultuous  gladness,  indeed,  though  out- 
wardly she  was  calm,  tranquil,  even  judicially  aus- 
tere. She  prepared  a  surprise  for  him  now,  calcu- 
lated to  put  a  heavy  strain  upon  those  disinterested 
protestations  of  his;  and  thus  she  delivered  it,  burn- 
ing it  away  word  by  word  as  the  fuse  burns  down  to 
a  bombshell,  and  watching  to  see  how  far  the  explo- 
sion would  lift  him. 

"Listen — and  do  not  doubt  me — for  I  shall  speak 
14  20,7 


MARK   TWAIN 

the  exact  truth.  Howard  Tracy,  I  am  no  more  an 
earl's  child  than  you  are!" 

To  her  joy — and  secret  surprise  also — it  never 
phased  him.  He  was  ready  this  time,  and  saw  his 
chance.  He  cried  out,  with  enthusiasm,  "Thank 
Heaven  for  that!"  and  gathered  her  to  his  arms. 

To  express  her  happiness  was  almost  beyond  her 
gift  of  speech. 

"You  make  me  the  proudest  girl  in  all  the  earth," 
she  said,  with  her  head  pillowed  on  his  shoulder.  "I 
thought  it  only  natural  that  you  should  be  dazzled 
by  the  title — maybe  even  unconsciously,  you  being 
English — and  that  you  might  be  deceiving  yourself 
in  thinking  you  loved  only  me,  and  find  you  didn't 
love  me  when  the  deception  was  swept  away;  so 
it  makes  me  proud  that  the  revelation  stands  for 
nothing  and  that  you  do  love  just  me,  only  me — oh, 
prouder  than  any  words  can  tell!" 

"  It  is  only  you,  sweetheart ;  I  never  gave  one  envy- 
ing glance  toward  your  father's  earldom.  That  is 
utterly  true,  dear  Gwendolen." 

"There — you  mustn't  call  me  that.  I  hate  that 
false  name.  I  told  you  it  wasn't  mine.  My  name 
is  Sally  Sellers — or  Sarah,  if  you  like.  From  this 
time  I  banish  dreams,  visions,  imaginings,  and  will 
no  more  of  them.  I  am  going  to  be  myself — my 
genuine  self,  my  honest  self,  my  natural  self,  clear 
and  clean  of  sham  and  folly  and  fraud,  and  worthy 
of  you.  There  is  no  grain  of  social  inequality  be- 
tween us;  I,  like  you,  am  poor;  I,  like  you,  am  with- 
out position  or  distinction;  you  are  a  struggling 
artist;  I  am  that,  too,  in  my  humbler  way.  Our 

208 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

bread  is  honest  bread ;  we  work  for  our  living.  Hand 
in  hand  we  will  walk  hence  to  the  grave,  helping  each 
other  in  all  ways,  living  for  each  other,  being  and 
remaining  one  in  heart  and  purpose,  one  in  hope  and 
aspiration,  inseparable  to  the  end.  And  though  our 
place  is  low,  judged  by  the  world's  eye,  we  will  make 
it  as  high  as  the  highest  in  the  great  essentials  of 
honest  work  for  what  we  eat  and  wear,  and  conduct 
above  reproach.  We  live  in  a  land,  let  us  be  thank- 
ful, where  this  is  all-sufficient,  and  no  man  is  better 
than  his  neighbor  by  the  grace  of  God,  but  only  by 
his  own  merit." 

Tracy  tried  to  break  in,  but  she  stopped  him,  and 
kept  the  floor  herself. 

"I  am  not  through  yet.  I  am  going  to  purge 
myself  of  the  last  vestiges  of  artificiality  and  pre- 
tense, and  then  start  fair  on  your  own  honest  level, 
and  be  worthy  mate  to  you  thenceforth.  My  father 
honestly  thinks  he  is  an  earl.  Well,  leave  him  his 
dream;  it  pleases  him,  and  does  no  one  any  harm. 
It  was  the  dream  of  his  ancestors  before  him.  It 
has  made  fools  of  the  house  of  Sellers  for  generations, 
and  it  made  something  of  a  fool  of  me,  but  took  no 
deep  root.  I  am  done  with  it  now,  and  for  good. 
Forty-eight  hours  ago  I  was  privately  proud  of  being 
the  daughter  of  a  pinchbeck  earl,  and  thought  the 
proper  mate  for  me  must  be  a  man  of  like  degree; 
but  to-day — oh,  how  grateful  I  am  for  your  love, 
which  has  healed  my  sick  brain  and  restored  my 
sanity ! — I  could  make  oath  that  no  earl's  son  in  all 
the  world—" 

"Oh— well,  but— but— " 
200 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Why,  you  look  like  a  person  in  a  panic.  What 
is  it?  What  is  the  matter?" 

"Matter?  Oh,  nothing — nothing.  I  was  only  go- 
ing to  say" — but  in  his  flurry  nothing  occurred  to 
him  to  say  for  a  moment ;  then  by  a  lucky  inspiration 
he  thought  of  something  entirely  sufficient  for  the 
occasion,  and  brought  it  out  with  eloquent  force: 
"Oh,  how  beautiful  you  are!  You  take  my  breath 
away  when  you  look  like  that." 

It  was  well  conceived,  well  timed  and  cordially 
delivered — and  it  got  its  reward. 

"Let  me  see.  Where  was  I?  Yes,  my  father's 
earldom  is  pure  moonshine.  Look  at  those  dreadful 
things  on  the  wall.  You  have  of  course  supposed 
them  to  be  portraits  of  his  ancestors,  earls  of  Ross- 
more.  Well,  they  are  not.  They  are  chromos  of 
distinguished  Americans — all  moderns;  but  he  has 
carried  them  back  a  thousand  years  by  relabeling 
them.  Andrew  Jackson  there  is  doing  what  he  can 
to  be  the  late  American  earl;  and  the  newest  treasure 
in  the  collection  is  supposed  to  be  the  young  English 
heir — I  mean  the  idiot  with  the  crape;  but  in  truth 
it's  a  shoemaker,  and  not  Lord  Berkeley  at  all." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"Why,  of  course  I  am.  He  wouldn't  look  like 
that." 

"Why?" 

"Because  his  conduct  in  his  last  moments,  when 
the  fire  was  sweeping  around  him,  shows  that  he  was 
a  man.  It  shows  that  he  was  a  fine,  high-souled 
young  creature." 

Tracy  was  strongly  moved  by  these  compliments, 

2IO 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

and  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  girl's  lovely  lips  took 
on  a  new  loveliness  when  they  were  delivering  them. 
He  said,  softly : 

"It  is  a  pity  he  could  not  know  what  a  gracious 
impression  his  behavior  was  going  to  leave  with  the 
dearest  and  sweetest  stranger  in  the  land  of — " 

"Oh,  I  almost  loved  him!  Why,  I  think  of  him 
every  day.  He  is  always  floating  about  in  my  mind. ' ' 

Tracy  felt  that  this  was  a  little  more  than  was 
necessary.  He  was  conscious  of  the  sting  of  jealousy. 
He  said: 

"It  is  quite  right  to  think  of  him — at  least,  now 
and  then  —  that  is,  at  intervals  —  in  perhaps  an 
admiring  way — but  it  seems  to  me  that — " 

' '  Howard  Tracy,  are  you  jealous  of  that  dead  man  ?' ' 

He  was  ashamed — and  at  the  same  time  not 
ashamed.  He  was  jealous — and  at  the  same  time 
he  was  not  jealous.  In  a  sense  the  dead  man  was 
himself;  in  that  case  compliments  and  affection 
lavished  upon  that  corpse  went  into  his  own  till  and 
were  clear  profit.  But  in  another  sense  the  dead 
man  was  not  himself;  and  in  that  case  all  compli- 
ments and  affection  lavished  there  were  wasted,  and 
a  sufficient  basis  for  jealousy.  A  tiff  was  the  result 
of  the  dispute  between  the  two.  Then  they  made  it 
up,  and  were  more  loving  than  ever.  As  an  affec- 
tionate clincher  of  the  reconciliation,  Sally  declared 
that  she  had  now  banished  Lord  Berkeley  from  her 
mind;  and  added,  "And  in  order  to  make  sure  that 
he  shall  never  make  trouble  between  us  again,  I  will 
teach  myself  to  detest  that  name  and  all  that  have 
ever  borne  it  or  ever  shall  bear  it." 

211 


MARK    TWAIN 

This  inflicted  another  pang,  and  Tracy  was 
minded  to  ask  her  to  modify  that  a  little  —  just 
on  general  principles,  and  as  practice  in  not  overdo- 
ing a  good  thing — but  perhaps  he  might  better  leave 
things  as  they  were  and  not  risk  bringing  on  an- 
other tiff.  He  got  away  from  that  particular,  and 
sought  less  tender  ground  for  conversation. 

"I  suppose  you  disapprove  wholly  of  aristocracies 
and  nobilities,  now  that  you  have  renounced  your 
title  and  your  father's  earldom?" 

"Real  ones?  Oh,  dear,  no;  but  I've  thrown  aside 
our  sham  one  for  good." 

This  answer  fell  just  at  the  right  time  and  just  in 
the  right  place  to  save  the  poor,  unstable  young  man 
from  changing  his  political  complexion  once  more. 
He  had  been  on  the  point  of  beginning  to  totter 
again,  but  this  prop  shored  him  up  and  kept  him 
from  floundering  back  into  democracy  and  re- 
renouncing  aristocracy.  So  he  went  home  glad  that 
he  had  asked  the  fortunate  question.  The  girl  would 
accept  a  little  thing  like  a  genuine  earldom;  she  was 
merely  prejudiced  against  the  brummagem  article. 
Yes,  he  could  have  his  girl  and  have  his  earldom, 
too;  that  question  was  a  fortunate  stroke. 

Sally  went  to  bed  happy,  too;  and  remained 
happy,  deliriously  happy,  for  nearly  two  hours;  but 
at  last,  just  as  she  was  sinking  into  a  contented  and 
luxurious  unconsciousness,  the  shady  devil  who  lives 
and  lurks  and  hides  and  watches  inside  of  human 
beings  and  is  always  waiting  for  a  chance  to  do  the 
proprietor  a  malicious  damage,  whispered  to  her 
soul  and  said,  "That  question  had  a  harmless  look, 

212 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

but  what  was  back  of  it? — what  was  the  secret  motive 
of  it? — what  suggested  it?" 

The  shady  devil  had  knifed  her,  and  could  retire 
now  and  take  a  rest;  the  wound  would  attend  to 
business  for  him.  And  it  did. 

Why  should  Howard  Tracy  ask  that  question?  If 
he  was  not  trying  to  marry  her  for  the  sake  of  her 
rank,  what  should  suggest  that  question  to  him? 
Didn't  he  plainly  look  gratified  when  she  said  her 
objections  to  aristocracy  had  their  limitations?  Ah, 
he  is  after  that  earldom,  that  gilded  sham — itjsn't 
poor  me  he  wants. 

So  she  argued,  in  anguish  and  tears.  Then  she 
argued  the  opposite  theory,  but  made  a  weak,  poor 
business  of  it,  and  lost  the  case.  She  kept  the 
arguing  up,  one  side  and  then  the  other,  the  rest  of 
the  night,  and  at  last  fell  asleep  at  dawn;  fell  in  the 
fire  at  dawn,  one  may  say;  for  that  kind  of  sleep 
resembles  fire,  and  one  comes  out  of  it  with  his  brain 
baked  and  his  physical  forces  fried  out  of  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

TRACY  wrote  his  father  before  he  sought  li///>  fot/i. 
He  wrote  a  letter  which  he  believed  would  g-et 
better  treatment  than  his  cablegram  received,  for  it 
contained  what  ought  to  be  welcome  news:  namely, 
that  he  had  tried  equality  and  working  for  a  living; 
had  made  a  fight  which  he  could  find  no  reason  to 
be  ashamed  of,  and  in  the  matter  of  earning  a  living 
had  proved  that  he  was  able  to  do  it;  but  that  on  the 
whole  he  had  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  he  could 
not  reform  the  world  single-handed,  and  was  willing 
to  retire  from  the  conflict  with  the  fair  degree  of 
honor  which  he  had  gained,  and  was  also  willing  to 
return  home  and  resume  his  position  and  be  content 
with  it  and  thankful  for  it  for  the  future,  leaving 
further  experiment  of  a  missionary  sort  to  other 
young  people  needing  the  chastening  and  quelling 
persuasions  of  experience,  the  only  logic  sure  to 
convince  a  diseased  imagination  and  restore  it  to 
rugged  health.  Then  he  approached  the  subject  of 
marriage  with  the  daughter  of  the  American  Claim- 
ant with  a  good  deal  of  caution  and  much  pains- 
taking art.  He  said  praiseful  and  appreciative 
things  about  the  girl,  but  didn't  dwell  upon  that 
detail  or  make  it  prominent.  The  thing  which  he 
made  prominent  was  the  opportunity  now  so  happily 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

afforded  to  reconcile  York  and  Lancaster,  graft  the 
\  irring  roses  upon  one  stem,  and  end  forever  a 
crying  injustice  which  had  already  lasted  far  too 
long.  One  could  infer  that  he  had  thought  this 
thing  all  out  and  chosen  this  way  of  making  all  things 
fair  and  right  because  it  was  sufficiently  fair  and 
considerably  wiser  than  the  renunciation  scheme 
which  he  had  brought  with  him  from  England.  One 
could  infer  that,  but  he  didn't  say  it.  In  fact,  the 
more  he  read  his  letter  over,  the  more  he  got  to 
inferring  it  himself. 

When  the  old  earl  received  that  letter  the  first 
part  of  it  filled  him  with  a  grim  and  snarly  satisfac- 
tion; but  the  rest  of  it  brought  a  snort  or  two  out  of 
him  that  could  be  translated  differently.  He  wasted 
no  ink  in  this  emergency,  either  in  cablegrams  or 
letters;  he  promptly  took  ship  for  America  to  look 
into  the  matter  himself.  He  had  stanchly  held  his 
grip  all  this  long  time,  and  given  no  sign  of  the 
hunger  at  his  heart  to  see  his  son;  hoping  for  the  cure 
of  his  insane  dream,  and  resolute  that  the  process 
should  go  through  all  the  necessary  stages  without 
assuaging  telegrams  or  other  nonsense  from  home, 
and  here  was  victory  at  last — victory,  but  stupidly 
marred  by  this  idiotic  marriage  project.  Yes,  he 
would  step  over  and  take  a  hand  in  this  matter 
himself. 

During  the  first  ten  days  following  the  mailing  of 
the  letter  Tracy's  spirits  had  no  idle  time;  they  were 
always  climbing  up  into  the  clouds  or  sliding  down 
into  the  earth  as  deep  as  the  law  of  gravitation 
reached.  He  was  intensely  happy  or  intensely 

215 


MARK    TWAIN 

miserable  by  turns,  according  to  Miss  Sally's  moods. 
He  never  could  tell  when  the  mood  was  going  to 
change,  and  when  it  changed  he  couldn't  tell  what 
it  was  that  had  changed  it.  Sometimes  she  was  so 
in  love  with  him  that  her  love  was  tropical,  torrid, 
and  she  could  find  no  language  fervent  enough  for 
its  expression;  then  suddenly,  and  without  warning 
or  any  apparent  reason,  the  weather  would  change, 
and  the  victim  would  find  himself  adrift  among  the 
icebergs  and  feeling  as  lonesome  and  friendless  as  the 
north  pole.  It  sometimes  seemed  to  him  that  a  man 
might  better  be  dead  than  exposed  to  these  devas- 
tating varieties  of  climate. 

The  case  was  simple.  Sally  wanted  to  believe  that 
Tracy's  preference  was  disinterested;  so  she  was 
always  applying  little  tests  of  one  sort  or  another, 
hoping  and  expecting  that  they  would  bring  out 
evidence  which  would  confirm  or  fortify  her  belief. 
Poor  Tracy  did  not  know  that  these  experiments 
were  being  made  upon  him,  consequently  he  walked 
promptly  into  all  the  traps  the  girl  set  for  him. 
These  traps  consisted  in  apparently  casual  references 
to  social  distinction,  aristocratic  title  and  privilege, 
and  such  things.  Often  Tracy  responded  to  these 
references  heedlessly  and  not  much  caring  what  he 
said,  provided  it  kept  the  talk  going  and  prolonged 
the  seance.  He  didn't  suspect  that  the  girl  was 
watching  his  face  and  listening  for  his  words  as  one 
who  watches  the  judge's  face  and  listens  for  the 
words  which  will  restore  him  to  home  and  friends  and 
freedom,  or  shut  him  away  from  the  sun  and  human 
companionship  forever.  He  didn't  suspect  that  his 

216 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

careless  words  were  being  weighed,  and  so  he  often 
delivered  sentence  of  death  when  it  would  have  been 
just  as  handy  and  all  the  same  to  him  to  pronounce 
acquittal.  Daily  he  broke  the  girl's  heart,  nightly 
he  sent  her  to  the  rack  for  sleep.  He  couldn't  under- 
stand it. 

Some  people  would  have  put  this  and  that  together 
and  perceived  that  the  weather  never  changed  until 
one  particular  subject  was  introduced,  and  that  then 
it  always  changed.  And  they  would  have  looked 
further,  and  perceived  that  that  subject  was  always 
introduced  by  the  one  party,  never  the  other.  They 
would  have  argued  then  that  this  was  done  for  a 
purpose.  If  they  could  not  find  out  what  that  pur- 
pose was  in  any  simpler  or  easier  way  they  would  ask. 

But  Tracy  was  not  deep  enough  or  suspicious 
enough  to  think  of  these  things.  He  noticed  only 
one  particular:  that  the  weather  was  always  sunny 
when  a  visit  began.  No  matter  how  much  it  might 
cloud  up  later,  it  always  began  with  a  clear  sky. 
He  couldn't  explain  this  curious  fact  to  himself;  he 
merely  knew  it  to  be  a  fact.  The  truth  of  the 
matter  was  that  by  the  time  Tracy  had  been  out  of 
Sally's  sight  six  hours  she  was  so  famishing  for  a 
sight  of  him  that  her  doubts  and  suspicions  were  all 
consumed  away  in  the  fire  of  that  longing,  and  so 
always  she  came  into  his  presence  as  surprisingly 
radiant  and  joyous  as  she  wasn't  when  she  went 
out  of  it. 

In  circumstances  like  these  a  growing  portrait 
runs  a  good  many  risks.  The  portrait  of  Sellers,  by 
Tracy,  was  fighting  along  day  by  day  through  this 


MARK   TWAIN 

mixed  weather,  and  daily  adding  to  itself  ineradicable 
signs  of  the  checkered  life  it  was  leading.  It  was  the 
happiest  portrait,  in  spots,  that  was  ever  seen;  but 
in  other  spots  a  damned  soul  looked  out  from  it;  a 
soul  that  was  suffering  all  the  different  kinds  of  dis- 
tress there  are,  from  stomach-ache  to  rabies.  But 
Sellers  liked  it.  He  said  it  was  just  himself  all  over 
— a  portrait  that  sweated  moods  from  every  pore, 
and  no  two  moods  alike.  He  said  he  had  as  many 
different  kinds  of  emotions  in  him  as  a  jug. 

It  was  a  kind  of  a  deadly  work  of  art,  maybe,  but 
it  was  a  starchy  picture  for  show;  for  it  was  life-size, 
full  length,  and  represented  the  American  earl  in  a 
peer's  scarlet  robe,  with  the  three  ermine  bars  indic- 
ative of  an  earl's  rank,  and  on  the  gray  head  an 
earl's  coronet  tilted  just  a  wee  bit  to  one  side  in  a 
most  gallus  and  winsome  way.  When  Sally's  weather 
was  sunny  the  portrait  made  Tracy  chuckle,  but 
when  her  weather  was  overcast  it  disordered  his 
mind  and  stopped  the  circulation  of  his  blood. 

Late  one  night  when  the  sweethearts  had  been 
having  a  flawless  visit  together,  Sally's  interior  devil 
began  to  work  his  specialty,  and  soon  the  conver- 
sation was  drifting  toward  the  customary  rock- 
Presently,  in  the  midst  of  Tracy's  serene  flow  of 
talk,  he  felt  a  shudder  which  he  knew  was  not  his 
shudder,  but  exterior  to  his  breast  although  imme- 
diately against  it.  After  the  shudder  came  sobs: 
Sally  was  crying. 

"Oh,  my  darling,  what  have  I  done — what  have 
I  said?  It  has  happened  again!  What  have  I  done 
to  wound  you?" 

218 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

She  disengaged  herself  from  his  arms  and  gave  him 
a  look  of  deep  reproach. 

"What  have  you  done?  I  will  tell  you  what  you 
have  done.  You  have  unwittingly  revealed — oh,  for 
the  twentieth  time,  though  I  could  not  believe  it, 
would  not  believe  it ! — that  it  is  not  me  you  love,  but 
that  foolish  sham,  my  father's  imitation  earldom; 
and  you  have  broken  my  heart!" 

"Oh,  my  child,  what  are  you  saying?  I  never 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing!" 

"Oh,  Howard!  Howard!  the  things  you  have  tit- 
tered when  you  were  forgetting  to  guard  your  tongue 
have  betrayed  you!" 

"Things  I  have  uttered  when  I  was  forgetting  to 
guard  my  tongue?  These  are  hard  words.  When 
have  I  remembered  to  guard  it?  Never  in  one 
instance.  It  has  no  office  but  to  speak  the  truth. 
It  needs  no  guarding  for  that." 

"Howard,  I  have  noted  your  words  and  weighed 
them  when  you  were  not  thinking  of  their  significance 
— and  they  have  told  me  more  than  you.  meant  they 
should."  ' 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  have  answered  the 
trust  I  had  in  you  by  using  it  as  an  ambuscade  from 
which  you  could  set  snares  for  my  unsuspecting 
tongue  and  be  safe  from  detection  while  you  did  it? 
You  have  not  done  this — surely  you  have  not  done 
this  thing.  Oh,  one's  enemy  could  not  do  it!" 

This  was  an  aspect  of  the  girl's  conduct  which  she 
had  not  clearly  perceived  before.  Was  it  treachery  ? 
Had  she  abused  a  trust?  The  thought  crimsoned 
her  cheeks  with  shame  and  remorse. 

219 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Oh,  forgive  me,"  she  said;  "I  did  not  know  what 
I  was  doing.  I  have  been  so  tortured — you  will  for- 
give me,  you  must;  I  have  suffered  so  much,  and  I 
am  so  sorry  and  so  humble;  you  do  forgive  me,  don't 
you?  Don't  turn  away,  don't  refuse  me;  it  is  only 
my  love  that  is  at  fault,  and  you  know  I  love  you — 
love  you  with  all  my  heart;  I  couldn't  bear  to — oh, 
dear,  dear,  I  am  so  miserable,  and  I  never  meant 
any  harm,  and  I  didn't  see  where  this  insanity  was 
carrying  me,  and  how  it  was  wronging  and  abusing 
the  dearest  heart  in  all  the  world  to  me — and — and — 
oh,  take  me  in  your  arms  again;  I  have  no  other 
refuge,  no  other  home  and  hope!" 

There  was  reconciliation  again — immediate,  per- 
fect, all-embracing  —  and  with  it  utter  happiness. 
This  would  have  been  a  good  time  to  adjourn.  But 
no,  now  that  the  cloud-breeder  was  revealed  at  last, 
now  that  it  was  manifest  that  all  the  sour  weather 
had  come  from  this  girl's  dread  that  Tracy  was  lured 
by  her  rank  and  not  herself,  he  resolved  to  lay  that 
ghost  immediately  and  permanently  by  furnishing 
the  best  possible  proof  that  he  couldn't  have  had  back 
of  him  at  any  time  the  suspected  motive.  So  he 
said: 

"Let  me  whisper  a  little  secret  in  your  ear — a 
secret  which  I  have  kept  shut  up  in  my  breast  all 
this  time.  Your  rank  couldn't  ever  have  been  an 
enticement.  I  am  son  and  heir  to  an  English  earl!" 

The  girl  stared  at  him — one,  two,  three  moments, 
maybe  a  dozen — then  her  lips  parted. 

"You?"  she  said,  and  moved  away  from  him,  still 
gazing  at  him  in  a  kind  of  blank  amazement. 

220 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"Why — why,  certainly  I  am.  Why  do  you  act 
like  this?  What  have  I  done  now?" 

"What  have  you  done?  You  have  certainly  made 
a  most  strange  statement.  You  must  see  that 
yourself." 

"Well,"  with  a  timid  little  laugh,  "it  may  be  a 
strange  enough  statement;  but  of  what  consequence 
is  that  if  it  is  true?" 

"If  it  is  true.    You  are  already  retiring  from  it." 

"Oh,  not  for  a  moment!  You  should  not  say 
that.  I  have  not  deserved  it.  I  have  spoken  the 
truth;  why  do  you  doubt  it?" 

Her  reply  was  prompt. 

"Simply  because  you  didn't  speak  it  earlier." 

"Oh!"  It  wasn't  a  groan  exactly,  but  it  was  an 
intelligible  enough  expression  of  the  fact  that  he 
saw  the  point  and  recognized  that  there  was  reason 
in  it. 

"You  have  seemed  to  conceal  nothing  from  me 
that  I  ought  to  know  concerning  yourself,  and  you 
were  not  privileged  to  keep  back  such  a  thing  as  this 
from  me  a  moment  after — after — well,  after  you  had 
determined  to  pay  your  court  to  me." 

"It's  true,  it's  true,  I  know  it!  But  there  were 
circumstances  —  in — in  the  way  —  circumstances 
which—" 

She  waved  the  circumstances  aside. 

"Well,  you  see,"  he  said,  pleadingly,  "you  seemed 
so  bent  on  our  traveling  the  proud  path  of  honest 
labor  and  honorable  poverty  that  I  was  terrified — 
that  is,  I  was  afraid — of — of — well,  you  know  how 
you  talked." 

221 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Yes,  I  know  how  I  talked.  And  I  also  know  that 
before  the  talk  was  finished  you  inquired  how  I  stood 
as  regards  aristocracies,  and  my  answer  was  calcu- 
lated to  relieve  your  fears." 

He  was  silent  awhile.  Then  he  said,  in  a  dis- 
couraged way: 

"I  don't  see  any  way  out  of  it.  It  was  a  mistake. 
That  is  in  truth  all  it  was,  just  a  mistake.  No  harm 
was  meant,  no  harm  in  the  world.  I  didn't  see  how 
it  might  some  time  look.  It  is  my  way.  I  don't 
seem  to  see  far." 

The  girl  was  almost  disarmed  for  a  moment.  Then 
she  flared  up  again. 

"An  earl's  son!  Do  earls'  sons  go  about  working 
in  lowly  callings  for  their  bread  and  butter?" 

' '  God  knows  they  don't !    I  have  wished  they  did. " 

"Do  earls'  sons  sink  their  degree  in  a  country  like 
this,  and  come  sober  and  decent  to  sue  for  the  hand 
of  a  born  child  of  poverty  when  they  can  go  drunk, 
profane,  and  steeped  in  dishonorable  debt  and  buy 
the  pick  and  choice  of  the  millionaires'  daughters  of 
America?  You  an  earl's  son!  Show  me  the  signs." 

"I  thank  God  I  am  not  able — if  those  are  the 
signs.  But  yet  I  am  an  earl's  son  and  heir.  It  is 
all  I  can  say.  I  wish  you  would  believe  me,  but  you 
will  not.  I  know  no  way  to  persuade  you." 

She  was  about  to  soften  again,  but  his  closing 
remark  made  her  bring  her  foot  down  with  smart 
vexation,  and  she  cried  out: 

' '  Oh,  you  drive  all  patience  out  of  me !  Would  you 
have  one  believe  that  you  haven't  your  proofs  at 
hand,  and  yet  are  what  you  say  you  are?  You  do 

222 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

not  put  your  hand  in  your  pocket  now — f  or  you  have 
nothing  there.  You  make  a  claim  like  this,  and  then 
venture  to  travel  without  credentials.  These  are 
simply  incredibilities.  Don't  you  see  that  yourself?'* 

He  cast  about  in  his  mind  for  a  defense  of  some 
kind  or  other — hesitated  a  little,  and  then  said,  with 
difficulty  and  diffidence: 

"I  will  tell  you  just  the  truth,  foolish  as  it  will 
seem  to  you — to  anybody,  I  suppose — but  it  is  the 
truth.  I  had  an  ideal — call  it  a  dream,  a  folly,  if 
you  will — but  I  wanted  to  renounce  the  privileges 
and  unfair  advantages  enjoyed  by  the  nobility  and 
wrung  from  the  nation  by  force  and  fraud,  and  purge 
myself  of  my  share  of  those  crimes  against  right  and 
reason  by  thenceforth  comrading  with  the  poor  and 
humble  on  equal  terms,  earning  with  my  own  hands 
the  bread  I  ate,  and  rising  by  my  own  merit  if  I  rose 
at  afl." 

The  young  girl  scanned  his  face  narrowly  while  he 
spoke;  and  there  was  something  about  his  simplic- 
ity of  manner  and  statement  which  touched  her — 
touched  her  almost  to  the  danger-point;  but  she  set 
her  grip  on  the  yielding  spirit  and  choked  it  to  qui- 
escence; it  could  not  be  wise  to  surrender  to  com- 
passion or  any  kind  of  sentiment  yet ;  she  must  ask 
one  or  two  more  questions.  Tracy  was  reading  her 
face ;  and  what  he  read  there  lifted  his  drooping  hopes 
a  little. 

"An  earl's  son  to  do  that!  Why,  he  were  a  man! 
A  man  to  love! — oh,  more,  a  man  to  worship!" 

"Why,  I—" 

"But  he  never  lived!    He  is  not  born,  he  will  not 

^S  22$ 


MARK   TWAIN 

be  born.  The  self-abnegation  that  could  do  that — 
even  in  utter  folly,  and  hopeless  of  conveying  benefit 
to  any,  beyond  the  mere  example — could  be  mistaken 
for  greatness;  why,  it  would  be  greatness  in  this  cold 
age  of  sordidideals !  Amoment — wait — let  me  finish;  I 
have  one  question  more.  Your  father  is  earl  of  what  ? ' ' 

"Rossmore — and  I  am  Viscount  Berkeley." 

The  fat  was  in  the  fire  again.  The  girl.felt  so  out- 
raged that  it  was  difficult  for  her  to  speak. 

"How  can  you  venture  such  a  brazen  thing!  You 
know  that  he  is  dead,  and  you  know  that  I  know  it. 
Oh,  to  rob  the  living  of  name  and  honors  for  a  selfish 
and  temporary  advantage  is  crime  enough,  but  to  rob 
the  defenseless  dead — why,  it  is  more  than  crime:  it 
degrades  crime!" 

"Oh,  listen  to  me — just  a  word — don't  turn  away 
like  that.  Don't  go — don't  leave  me  so — stay  one 
moment.  On  my  honor — " 

"Oh,  on  your  honor!" 

"On  my  honor  I  am  what  I  say !  And  I  will  prove 
it,  and  you  will  believe,  I  know  you  will.  I  will 
bring  you  a  message — a  cablegram — " 

"When?" 

"To-morrow — next  day — " 

"Signed  'Rossmore'?" 

"Yes — signed  '  Rossmore.' " 

"What  will  that  prove?" 

"What  will  it  prove?    What  should  it  prove?" 

"If  you  force  me  to  say  it — possibly  the  presence 
of  a  confederate  somewhere." 

This  was  a  hard  blow,  and  staggered  him.  He 
said,  dejectedly: 

224 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"It  is  true.  I  did  not  think  of  it.  Oh,  my  God, 
I  do  not  know  any  way  to  do;  I  do  everything  wrong. 
You  are  going  ? — and  you  won't  say  even  good  night — 
or  good-by  ?  Ah,  we  have  not  parted  like  this  before. ' ' 

"Oh,  I  want  to  run  and — no,  go  now."  A  pause — 
then  she  said,  "You  may  bring  the  message  when 
it  comes." 

"Oh,  may  I?    God  bless  you." 

He  was  gone;  and  none  too  soon;  her  lips  were  al- 
ready quivering,  and  now  she  broke  down.  Through 
her  sobbings  her  words  broke  from  time  to  time. 

"Oh,  he  is  gone.  I  have  lost  him,  I  shall  never 
see  him  any  more.  And  he  didn't  kiss  me  good-by; 
never  even  offered  to  force  a  kiss  from  me,  and  he 
knowing  it  was  the  very,  very  last,  and  I  expecting 
he  would,  and  never  dreaming  he  would  treat  me  so 
after  all  we  have  been  to  each  other.  Oh,  oh,  oh, 
oh,  what  shall  I  do,  what  shall  I  do?  He  is  a  dear, 
poor,  miserable,  good-hearted,  transparent  liar  and 
humbug,  but  oh,  I  do  love  him  so !"  After  a  little  she 
broke  into  speech  again.  "How  dear  he  is!  and  I 
shall  miss  him  so,  I  shall  miss  him  so !  Why  won't  he 
ever  think  to  forge  a  message  and  fetch  it? — but  no, 
he  never  will,  he  never  thinks  of  anything;  he's  so 
honest  and  simple  it  wouldn't  ever  occur  to  him. 
Oh,  what  did  possess  him  to  think  he  could  succeed 
as  a  fraud — and  he  hasn't  the  first  requisite  except 
duplicity  that  I  can  see.  Oh,  dear,  I'll  go  to  bed 
and  g*ve  it  all  up.  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  told  him  to 
come  and  tell  me  whenever  he  didn't  get  any  tele- 
gram— and  now  it's  all  my  own  fault  if  I  never  see 
him  again.  How  my  eyes  must  look!" 

225 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

NEXT  day,  sure  enough,  the  cablegram  didn't 
come.  This  was  an  immense  disaster ;  for  Tracy 
couldn't  go  into  the  presence  without  that  ticket, 
although  it  wasn't  going  to  possess  any  value  as 
evidence.  But  if  the  failure  of  the  cablegram  on  that 
first  day  may  be  called  an  immense  disaster,  where  is 
the  dictionary  that  can  turn  out  a  phrase  sizable 
enough  to  describe  the  tenth  day's  failure?  Of 
course  every  day  that  the  cablegram  didn't  come 
made  Tracy  all  of  twenty-four  hours  more  ashamed 
of  himself  than  he  was  the  day  before,  and  made 
Sally  fully  twenty -four  hours  more  certain  than  ever 
that  he  not  only  hadn't  any  father  anywhere,  but 
hadn't  even  a  confederate — and  so  it  followed  that 
he  was  a  double-dyed  humbug,  and  couldn't  be  oth- 
erwise. 

These  were  hard  days  for  Barrow  and  the  art 
firm.  All  these  had  their  hands  full  trying  to  com- 
fort Tracy.  Barrow's  task  was  particularly  hard, 
because  he  was  made  a  confidant  in  full,  and  there- 
fore had  to  humor  Tracy's  delusion  that  he  had  a 
father,  and  that  the  father  was  an  earl,  and  that  he 
was  going  to  send  a  cablegram.  Barrow  early  gave 
up  the  idea  of  trying  to  convince  Tracy  that  he 
hadn't  any  father,  because  this  had  such  a  bad  effect 

226 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

on  the  patient,  and  worked  up  his  temper  to  such  an 
alarming  degree.  He  had  tried,  as  an  experiment, 
letting  Tracy  think  he  had  a  father;  the  result  was 
so  good  that  he  went  further,  with  proper  caution, 
and  tried  letting  him  think  his  father  was  an  earl; 
this  wrought  so  well  that  he  grew  bold,  and  tried 
letting  him  think  he  had  two  fathers,  if  he  wanted  to, 
but  he  didn't  want  to,  so  Barrow  withdrew  one  of 
them  and  substituted  letting  him  think  he  was  go- 
ing to  get  a  cablegram  —  which  Barrow  judged  he 
wouldn't,  and  was  right;  but  Barrow  worked  the  ca- 
blegram daily  for  all  it  was  worth,  and  it  was  the 
one  thing  that  kept  Tracy  alive;  that  was  Barrow's 
opinion. 

And  these  were  bitter,  hard  days  for  poor  Sally, 
and  mainly  delivered  up  to  private  crying.  She  kept 
her  furniture  pretty  damp,  and  so  caught  cold,  and 
the  dampness  and  the  cold  and  the  sorrow  together 
undermined  her  appetite,  and  she  was  a  pitiful 
enough  object,  poor  thing!  Her  state  was  bad 
enough,  as  per  statement  of  it  above  quoted;  but  all 
the  forces  of  nature  and  circumstance  seemed  con- 
spiring to  make  it  worse — and  succeeding.  For  in- 
stance, the  morning  after  her  dismissal  of  Tracy, 
Hawkins  and  Sellers  read  in  the  Associated  Press 
despatches  that  a  toy  puzzle  called  Pigs  in  the  Clover 
had  come  into  sudden  favor  within  the  past  few 
weeks,  and  that  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  all 
the  populations  of  all  the  States  had  knocked  off 
work  to  play  with  it,  and  that  the  business  of  the 
country  had  now  come  to  a  standstill  by  conse- 
quence; that  judges,  lawyers,  burglars,  parsons, 

227 


MARK    TWAIN 

thieves,  merchants,  mechanics,  murderers,  women, 
children,  babies — everybody,  indeed,  could  be  seen 
from  morning  till  midnight  absorbed  in  one  deep 
project  and  purpose,  and  only  one:  to  pen  those  pigs, 
work  out  that  puzzle  successfully;  that  all  gaiety,  all 
cheerfulness,  had  departed  from  the  nation,  and  in 
its  place  care,  preoccupation,  and  anxiety  sat  upon 
every  countenance,  and  all  faces  were  drawn,  dis- 
tressed, and  furrowed  with  the  signs  of  age  and 
trouble,  and  marked  with  the  still  sadder  signs  of 
mental  decay  and  incipient  madness;  that  factories 
were  at  work  night  and  day  in  eight  cities,  and  yet 
to  supply  the  demand  for  the  puzzle  was  thus  far 
impossible.  Hawkins  was  wild  with  joy,  but  Sellers 
was  calm.  Small  matters  could  not  disturb  his 
serenity.  He  said: 

"That's  just  the  way  things  go.  A  man  invents 
a  thing  which  could  revolutionize  the  arts,  produce 
mountains  of  money,  and  bless  the  earth,  and  who 
will  bother  with  it  or  show  any  interest  in  it? — and 
so  you  are  just  as  poor  as  you  were  before.  But  you 
invent  some  worthless  thing  to  amuse  yourself  with, 
and  would  throw  it  away  if  let  alone,  and  all  of  a 
sudden  the  whole  world  makes  a  snatch  for  it  and 
out  crops  a  fortune.  Hunt  up  that  Yankee  and 
collect,  Hawkins — half  is  yours,  you  know.  Leave 
me  to  potter  at  my  lecture." 

This  was  a  temperance  lecture.  Sellers  was  head 
chief  in  the  Temperance  camp,  and  had  lectured, 
now  and  then,  in  that  interest,  but  had  been  dis- 
satisfied with  his  efforts ;  wherefore  he  was  now  about 
to  try  a  new  plan.  After  much  thought  he  had  con- 

228 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

eluded  that  a  main  reason  why  his  lectures  lacked 
fire  or  something  was  that  they  were  too  transpar- 
ently amateurish ;  that  is  to  say,  it  was  probably  too 
plainly  perceptible  that  the  lecturer  was  trying  to  tell 
people  about  the  horrid  effects  of  liquor  when  he 
didn't  really  know  anything  about  those  effects  ex- 
cept from  hearsay,  since  he  had  hardly  ever  tasted 
an  intoxicant  in  his  life.  His  scheme  now  was  to 
prepare  himself  to  speak  from  bitter  experience. 
Hawkins  was  to  stand  by  with  the  bottle,  calculate 
the  doses,  watch  the  effects,  make  notes  of  results, 
and  otherwise  assist  in  the  preparation.  Time  was 
short,  for  the  ladies  would  be  along  about  noon — that 
is  to  say,  the  temperance  organization  called  the 
Daughters  of  Siloam — and  Sellers  must  be  ready  to 
head  the  procession. 

The  time  kept  slipping  along — Hawkins  did  not 
return — Sellers  could  not  venture  to  wait  longer;  so 
he  attacked  the  bottle  himself,  and  proceeded  to  note 
the  effects.  Hawkins  got  back  at  last ;  took  one  com- 
prehensive glance  at  the  lecturer,  and  went  down  and 
headed  off  the  procession.  The  ladies  were  grieved 
to  hear  that  the  champion  had  been  taken  suddenly 
ill  and  violently  so,  but  glad  to  hear  that  it  was  hoped 
he  would  be  out  again  in  a  few  days. 

As  it  turned  out,  the  old  gentleman  didn't  turn 
over  or  show  any  signs  of  life  worth  speaking  of  for 
twenty-four  hours.  Then  he  asked  after  the  pro- 
cession, and  learned  what  had  happened  about  it. 
He  was  sorry;  said  he  had  been  "fixed"  for  it.  He 
remained  abed  several  days,  and  his  wife  and 
daughter  took  turns  in  sitting  with  him  and  minis- 

229 


MARK    TWAIN 

tering  to  his  wants.  Often  he  patted  Sally's  head 
and  tried  to  comfort  her. 

"Don't  cry,  my  child,  don't  cry  so;  you  know  your 
old  father  did  it  by  mistake,  and  didn't  mean  a  bit 
of  harm;  you  know  he  wouldn't  intentionally  do 
anything  to  make  you  ashamed  for  the  world;  you 
know  he  was  trying  to  do  good,  and  only  made  the 
mistake  through  ignorance,  not  knowing  the  right 
doses  and  Washington  not  there  to  help.  Don't  cry 
so,  dear,  it  breaks  my  old  heart  to  see  you,  and  think 
I've  brought  this  humiliation  on  you,  and  you  so  dear 
to  me  and  so  good.  I  won't  ever  do  it  again,  indeed 
I  won't;  now  be  comforted,  honey,  that's  a  good 
child." 

But  when  she  wasn't  on  duty  at  the  beds:de  the 
crying  went  on  just  the  same;  then  the  mother  would 
try  to  comfort  her,  and  say: 

"Don't  cry,  dear,  he  never  meant  any  harm;  it 
was  all  one  of  those  happens  that  you  can't  guard 
against  when  you  are  trying  experiments  that  way. 
You  see,  I  don't  cry.  It's  because  I  know  him  so 
well.  I  could  never  look  anybody  in  the  face  again 
if  he  had  got  into  such  an  amazing  condition  as  that 
a-purpose;  but,  bless  you,  his  intention  was  pure 
and  high,  and  that  makes  the  act  pure,  though  it 
was  higher  than  was  necessary.  We're  not  humili- 
ated, dear;  he  did  it  under  a  noble  impulse,  and  we 
don't  need  to  be  ashamed.  There,  don't  cry  any 
more,  honey." 

Thus  the  old  gentleman  was  useful  to  Sally  during 
several  days  as  an  explanation  of  her  tearfulness. 
She  felt  thankful  to  him  for  the  shelter  he  was 

230 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

affording  her,  but  often  said  to  herself,  "It's  a  shame 
to  let  him  see  in  my  crying  a  reproach — as  if  he  could 
ever  do  anything  that  could  make  me  reproach  him ! 
But  I  can't  confess;  I've  got  to  go  on  using  him  for  a 
pretext;  he's  the  only  one  I've  got  in  the  world,  and 
I  do  need  one  so  much." 

As  soon  as  Sellers  was  out  again,  and  found  that 
stacks  of  money  had  been  placed  in  bank  for  him 
and  Hawkins  by  the  Yankee,  he  said,  "Now  we'll 
soon  see  who's  the  Claimant  and  who's  the  Authentic. 
I'll  just  go  over  there  and  warm  up  that  House  of 
Lords."  During  the  next  few  days  he  and  his  wife 
were  so  busy  with  preparations  for  the  voyage  that 
Sally  had  all  the  privacy  she  needed,  and  all  the 
chance  to  cry  that  was  good  for  her.  Then  the  old 
pair  left  for  New  York — and  England. 

Sally  had  also  had  a  chance  to  do  another  thing. 
That  was,  to  make  up  her  mind  that  life  was  not 
worth  living  upon  the  present  terms.  If  she  must 
give  up  her  impostor  and  die,  doubtless  she  must 
submit ;  but  might  she  not  lay  her  whole  case  before 
some  disinterested  person  first,  and  see  if  there  wasn't 
perhaps  some  saving  way  out  of  the  matter?  She 
turned  this  idea  over  in  her  mind  a  good  deal.  In  her 
first  visit  with  Hawkins  after  her  parents  were  gone, 
the  talk  fell  upon  Tracy,  and  she  was  impelled  to  set 
her  case  before  the  statesman  and  take  his  counsel. 
So  she  poured  out  her  heart,  and  he  listened  with 
painful  solicitude.  She  concluded,  pleadingly,  with: 

"Don't  tell  me  he  is  an  impostor.  I  suppose  he  is, 
but  doesn't  it  look  to  you  as  if  he  isn't?  You  are 
cool,  you  know,  and  outside;  and  so,  maybe  it  can 

231 


MARK    TWAIN 

look  to  you  as  if  he  isn't  one,  when  it  can't  to  me. 
Doesn't  it  look  to  you  as  if  he  isn't?  Couldn't  you — 
can't  it  look  to  you  that  way — for — for  my  sake?" 

The  poor  man  was  troubled,  but  he  felt  obliged  to 
keep  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  truth.  He  fought 
around  the  present  detail  a  little  while,  then  gave  it 
up,  and  said  he  couldn't  see  his  way  to  clearing  Tracy. 

"No,"  he  said;  "the  truth  is,  he's  an  impostor." 

"That  is,  you — you  feel  a  little  certain,  but  not 
entirely — oh,  not  entirely,  Mr.  Hawkins!" 

"It's  a  pity  to  have  to  say  it — I  do  hate  to  say 
it — but  I  don't  think  anything  about  it,  I  know  he's 
an  impostor." 

"Oh,  now,  Mr.  Hawkins,  you  can't  go  that  far.  A 
body  can't  really  know  it,  you  know.  It  isn't  proved 
that  he's  not  what  he  says  he  is." 

Should  he  come  out  and  make  a  clean  breast  of  the 
whole  wretched  business?  Yes — at  least,  the  most 
of  it — it  ought  to  be  done.  So  he  set  his  teeth  and 
went  at  the  matter  with  determination,  but  purposing 
to  spare  the  girl  one  pain — that  of  knowing  that 
Tracy  was  a  criminal. 

"Now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  plain  tale;  one  not- 
pleasant  for  me  to  tell  or  for  you  to  hear,  but  we've 
got  to  stand  it.  I  know  all  about  that  fellow,  and  I 
know  he  is  no  earl's  son." 

The  girl's  eyes  flashed,  and  she  said: 

"I  don't  care  a  snap  for  that — go  on!" 

This  was  so  wholly  unexpected  that  it  at  once  ob- 
structed the  narrative;  Hawkins  was  not  even  sure 
that  he  had  heard  aright.  He  said: 

"I  don't  know  that  I  quite  understand.  Do  you 
232 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

mean  to  say  that  if  he  was  all  right  and  proper 
otherwise,  you'd  be  indifferent  about  the  earl  part 
of  the  business?" 

"Absolutely." 

' '  You'd  be  entirely  satisfied  with  him,  and  wouldn't 
care  for  his  not  being  an  earl's  son — that  being  an 
earl's  son  wouldn't  add  any  value  to  him?" 

"Not  the  least  value  that  I  would  care  for.  Why, 
Mr.  Hawkins,  I've  gotten  over  all  that  day-dreaming 
about  earldoms  and  aristocracies  and  all  such  non- 
sense, and  am  become  just  a  plain  ordinary  nobody 
and  content  with  it;  and  it  is  to  him  I  owe  my  cure. 
And  as  to  anything  being  able  to  add  a  value  to  him, 
nothing  can  do  that.  He  is  the  whole  world  to  me, 
just  as  he  is ;  he  comprehends  all  the  values  there  are 
— then  how  can  you  add  one?" 

"She's  pretty  far  gone."  He  said  that  to  himself. 
He  continued,  still  to  himself,  "I  must  change  my 
plan  again;  I  can't  seem  to  strike  one  that  will  stand 
the  requirements  of  this  most  variegated  emergency 
five  minutes  on  a  stretch.  Without  making  this 
fellow  a  criminal,  I  believe  I  will  invent  a  name  and 
a  character  for  him  calculated  to  disenchant  her.  If 
it  fails  to  do  it,  then  I'll  know  that  the  next  lightest 
thing  to  do  will  be  to  help  her  to  her  fate,  poor  thing, 
not  hinder  her." 

Then  he  said  aloud : 

"Well,  Gwendolen—" 

"I  want  to  be  called  Sally." 

' '  I'm  glad  of  it ;  I  like  it  better  myself.  Well,  then, 
I'll  tell  you  about  this  man  Snodgrass." 

"Snodgrass!    Is  that  his  name?" 


MARK    TWAIN 

1 '  Yes — Snodgrass.    The  other 's  his  nom  de  plume. ' ' 

"It's  hideous?" 

"I  know  it  is,  but  we  can't  help  our  names." 

"And  that  is  truly  his  real  name — and  not  Howard 
Tracy?" 

Hawkins  answered,  regretfully: 

"Yes;  it  seems  a  pity." 

The  girl  sampled  the  name  musingly  once  or  twice : 

"Snodgrass!  Snodgrass!  No,  I  could  not  endure 
that.  I  could  not  get  used  to  it.  No,  I  should  call 
him  by  his  first  name.  What  is  his  first  name?" 

"His — er — his  initials  are  S.  M." 

"His  initials?  I  don't  care  anything  about  his 
initials.  I  can't  call  him  by  his  initials.  What  do 
they  stand  for?" 

"Well,  you  see,  his  father  was  a  physician,  and 
he — he — well,  he  was  an  idolator  of  his  profession, 
and  he — well,  he  was  a  very  eccentric  man,  and — " 

"What  do  they  stand  for?  What  are  you  shuffling 
about?" 

"They — well,  they  stand  for  Spinal  Meningitis. 
His  father  being  a  phy — " 

"I  never  heard  such  an  infamous  name!  Nobody 
can  ever  call  a  person  that — a  person  they  love.  I 
wouldn't  call  an  enemy  by  such  a  name.  It  sounds 
like  an  epithet."  After  a  moment  she  added,  with 
a  kind  of  consternation,  "Why,  it  would  be  my 
name!  Letters  would  come  with  it  on." 

"Yes — Mrs.  Spinal  Meningitis  Snodgrass." 

"Don't  repeat  it — don't;  I  can't  bear  it.  Was  the 
father  a  lunatic?" 

"No,  that  is  not  charged." 
234 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"I  am  glad  of  that,  because  that  is  transmissible. 
What  do  you  think  was  the  matter  with  him,  then?" 

"Well,  I  don't  really  know.  The  family  used  to 
run  a  good  deal  to  idiots,  and  so,  maybe — " 

"Oh,  there  isn't  any  maybe  about  it.  This  one 
was  an  idiot." 

"Well,  yes — he  could  have  been.  He  was  sus- 
pected." 

' '  Suspected !"  said  Sally,  with  irritation.  ' '  Would 
one  suspect  there  was  going  to  be  a  dark  time  if  he 
saw  the  constellations  fall  out  of  the  sky  ?  But  that 
is  enough  about  the  idiot,  I  don't  take  any  interest 
in  idiots;  tell  me  about  the  son." 

"Very  well,  then;  this  one  was  the  eldest,  but  not 
the  favorite.  His  brother,  Zylobalsamum — " 

"Wait — give  me  a  chance  to  realize  that.  It  is 
perfectly  stupefying.  Zylo — what  did  you  call  it?" 

' '  Zylobalsamum. ' ' 

"I  never  heard  such  a  name.  It  sounds  like  a 
disease.  Is  it  a  disease?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  it's  a  disease.  It's  either 
Scriptural  or — " 

"Well,  it's  not  Scriptural." 

"Then  it's  anatomical.  I  knew  it  was  one  or  the 
other.  Yes,  I  remember  now;  it  is  anatomical.  It's 
a  ganglion — a  nerve  center — it  is  what  is  called  the 
Zylobalsamum  process." 

"Well,  go  on;  and  if  you  come  to  any  more  of 
them,  omit  the  names;  they  make  one  feel  so  uncom- 
fortable." 

.  "Very  well,  then.    As  I  said,  this  one  was  not  a 
favorite  in  the  family,  and  so  he  was  neglected  in 

235 


MARK    TWAIN 

every  way — never  sent  to  school,  always  allowed  to 
associate  with  the  worst  and  coarsest  characters,  and 
so  of  course  he  has  grown  up  a  rude,  vulgar,  ignorant, 
dissipated  ruffian,  and — " 

"He?  It's  no  such  thing!  You  ought  to  be  more 
generous  than  to  make  such  a  statement  as  that 
about  a  poor  young  stranger  who — who — why,  he 
is  the  very  opposite  of  that!  He  is  considerate, 
courteous,  obliging,  modest,  gentle,  refined,  culti- 
vated— oh,  for  shame!  how  can  you  say  such  things 
about  him?" 

"I  don't  blame  you,  Sally — indeed,  I  haven't  a 
word  of  blame  for  you  for  being  blinded  by  your 
affection — blinded  to  these  minor  defects  which  are 
so  manifest  to  others  who — " 

"Minor  defects?  Do  you  call  these  minor  defects? 
What  are  murder  and  arson,  pray?" 

"It  is  a  difficult  question  to  answer  straight  off — 
and  of  course  estimates  of  such  things  vary  with 
environment.  With  us,  out  our  way,  they  would  not 
necessarily  attract  as  much  attention  as  with  you, 
yet  they  are  often  regarded  with  disapproval — " 

"Murder  and  arson  are  regarded  with  disap- 
proval?" 

"Oh,  frequently." 

"With  disapproval!  Who  are  those  Puritans  you 
are  talking  about?  But  wait — how  did  you  come  to 
know  so  much  about  this  family?  Where  did  you 
get  all  this  hearsay  evidence?" 

"Sally,  it  isn't  hearsay  evidence.  That  is  the 
serious  part  of  it.  I  knew  that  family — personally." 

This  was  a  surprise. 

236 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"You?    You  actually  knew  them?" 

"Knew  Zylo,  as  we  used  to  call  him,  and  knew 
his  father,  Dr.  Snodgrass.  I  didn't  know  your  own 
Snodgrass,  but  have  had  glimpses  of  him  from  time 
to  time,  and  I  heard  about  him  all  the  time.  He  was 
the  common  talk,  you  see,  on  account  of  his — " 

"On  account  of  his  not  being  a  house-burner  or 
an  assassin,  I  suppose.  That  would  have  made  him 
commonplace.  Where  did  you  know  these  people?" 

"In  Cherokee  Strip." 

"Oh,  how  preposterous!  There  are  not  enough 
people  in  Cherokee  Strip  to  give  anybody  a  reputa- 
tion, good  or  bad.  There  isn't  a  quorum.  Why,  the 
whole  population  consists  of  a  couple  of  wagon-loads 
of  horse  thieves." 

Hawkins  answered,  placidly: 

"Our  friend  was  one  of  those  wagon-loads." 

Sally's  eyes  burned,  and  her  breath  came  quick  and 
fast,  but  she  kept  a  fairly  good  grip  on  her  anger, 
and  did  not  let  it  get  the  advantage  of  her  tongue. 
The  statesman  sat  still  and  waited  for  developments. 
He  was  content  with  his  work.  It  was  as  handsome  a 
piece  of  diplomatic  art  as  he  had  ever  turned  out,  he 
thought;  and  now  let  the  girl  make  her  own  choice. 
He  judged  she  would  let  her  specter  go;  he  hadn't  a 
doubt  of  it,  in  fact;  but  anyway  let  the  choice  be 
made,  and  he  was  ready  to  ratify  it  and  offer  no 
further  hindrance. 

Meantime  Sally  had  thought  her  case  out  and 
made  up  her  mind.  To  the  Major's  disappointment 
the  verdict  was  against  him.  Sally  said: 

"He  has  no  friend  but  me,  and  I  will  not  desert 
237 


MARK    TWAIN 

him  now.  I  will  not  marry  him  if  his  moral  char- 
acter is  bad;  but  if  he  can  prove  that  it  isn't,  I  will 
— and  he  shall  have  the  chance.  To  me  he  seems 
utterly  good  and  dear;  I've  never  seen  anything 
about  him  that  looked  otherwise — except,  of  course, 
his  calling  himself  an  earl's  son.  Maybe  that  is  only 
vanity,  and  no  real  harm  when  you  get  to  the  bottom 
of  it.  I  do  not  believe  he  is  any  such  person  as  you 
have  painted  him.  I  want  to  see  him.  I  want  you 
to  find  him  and  send  him  to  me.  I  will  implore  him 
to  be  honest  with  me,  and  tell  me  the  whole  truth, 
and  not  be  afraid." 

"Very  well;  if  that  is  your  decision,  I  will  do  it. 
But,  Sally,  you  know  he's  poor,  and — " 

"Oh,  I  don't  care  anything  about  that.  That's 
neither  here  nor  there.  Will  you  bring  him  to  me?" 

"I'll  do  it.     When?" 

"Oh,  dear,  it's  getting  toward  dark  now,  and  so 
you'll  have  to  put  it  off  till  morning.  But  you  will 
find  him  in  the  morning,  won't  you?  Promise." 

"I'll  have  him  here  by  daylight." 

"Oh,  now  you're  your  own  old  self  again — and 
lovelier  than  ever!" 

"I  couldn't  ask  fairer  than  that.    Good-by,  dear." 

Sally  mused  a  moment  alone;  then  said,  earnestly, 
"I  love  him  in  spite  of  his  name!"  and  went  about 
her  affairs  with  a  light  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

HAWKINS  went  straight  to  the  telegraph-office 
and  disburdened  his  conscience.  He  said  to 
himself,  "She's  not  going  to  give  this  galvanized 
cadaver  up,  that's  plain.  Wild  horses  can't  pull  her 
away  from  him.  I've  done  my  share;  it's  for  Sellers 
to  take  an  innings  now."  So  he  sent  this  message 
to  New  York: 

Come  back.  Hire  special  train.  She's  going  to  marry  the 
materializee. 

Meantime  a  note  came  to  Rossmore  Towers  to  say 
that  the  Earl  of  Rossmore  had  just  arrived  from 
England,  and  would  do  himself  the  pleasure  of  calling 
in  the  evening.  Sally  said  to  herself,  "It  is  a  pity 
he  didn't  stop  in  New  York;  but  it's  no  matter;  he 
can  go  up  to-morrow  and  see  my  father.  He  has 
come  over  here  to  tomahawk  papa  very  likely,  or 
buy  out  his  claim.  This  thing  would  have  excited 
me  a  while  back,  but  it  has  only  one  interest  for  me 
now,  and  only  one  value.  I  can  say  to — to — Spine, 
Spiny,  Spinal — I  don't  like  any  form  of  that  name ! — 
I  can  say  to  him  to-morrow,  'Don't  try  to  keep  it  up 
any  more,  or  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  whom  I  have 
been  talking  with  last  night,  and  then  you  will  be 
embarrassed." 


MARK    TWAIN 

Tracy  couldn't  know  he  was  to  be  invited  for  the 
morrow,  or  he  might  have  waited.  As  it  was,  he  was 
too  miserable  to  wait  any  longer;  for  his  last  hope — 
a  letter — had  failed  him.  It  was  fully  due  to-day; 
it  had  not  come.  Had  his  father  really  flung  him 
away?  It  looked  so.  It  was  not  like  his  father,  but 
it  surely  looked  so.  His  father  was  a  rather  tough 
nut,  in  truth,  but  had  never  been  so  with  his  son — 
still,  this  implacable  silence  had  a  calamitous  look. 
Anyway,  Tracy  would  go  to  the  Towers  and — then 
what?  He  didn't  know;  his  head  was  tired  out  with 
thinking — he  wouldn't  think  about  what  he  must  do 
or  say — let  it  all  take  care  of  itself.  So  that  he  saw 
Sally  once  more  he  would  be  satisfied,  happen  what 
might;  he  wouldn't  care. 

He  hardly  knew  how  he  got  to  the  Towers,  or 
when.  He  knew  and  cared  for  only  one  thing — he 
was  alone  with  Sally.  She  was  kind,  she  was  gentle, 
there  was  moisture  in  her  eyes,  and  a  yearning  some- 
thing in  her  face  and  manner  which  she  could  not 
wholly  hide  —  but  she  kept  her  distance.  They 
talked.  By  and  by  she  said,  watching  his  downcast 
countenance  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye: 

"It's  so  lonesome — with  papa  and  mamma  gone. 
I  try  to  read,  but  I  can't  seem  to  get  interested  in 
any  book.  I  try  the  newspapers,  but  they  do  put 
such  rubbish  in  them!  You  take  up  a  paper  and 
start  to  read  something  you  think's  interesting,  and 
it  goes  on  and  on  and  on  about  how  somebody — well, 
Dr.  Snodgrass,  for  instance — " 

Not  a  movement  from  Tracy,  not  the  quiver  of 
a  muscle.  Sally  was  amazed — what  command  of 

240 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

himself  he  must  have!  Being  disconcerted,  she 
paused  so  long  that  Tracy  presently  looked  up 
wearily  and  said: 

"Well?" 

"Oh,  I  thought  you  were  not  listening.  Yes,  it 
goes  on  and  on  about  this  Dr.  Snodgrass  till  you 
are  so  tired,  and  then  about  his  younger  son — the 
favorite  son — Zylobalsamum  Snodgrass — " 

Not  a  sign  from  Tracy,  whose  head  was  droop- 
ing again.  What  supernatural  self-possession !  Sally 
fixed  her  eye  on  him  and  began  again,  resolved  to 
blast  him  out  of  his  serenity  this  time  if  she  knew 
how  to  apply  the  dynamite  that  is  concealed  in 
certain  forms  of  words  when  those  words  are  prop- 
erly loaded  with  unexpected  meanings. 

"And  next  it  goes  on  and  on  and  on  about  the 
eldest  son — not  the  favorite,  this  one — and  how  he  is 
neglected  in  his  poor  barren  boyhood,  and  allowed  to 
grow  up  unschooled,  ignorant,  coarse,  vulgar,  the 
comrade  of  the  community's  scum,  and  become  in 
his  completed  manhood  a  rude,  profane,  dissipated 
ruffian — " 

That  head  still  drooped!  Sally  rose,  moved  softly 
and  solemnly  a  step  or  two,  and  stood  before  Tracy 
— his  head  came  slowly  up,  his  meek  eyes  met  her 
intense  ones — then  she  finished,  with  deep  impress- 
iveness : 

" — named  Spinal  Meningitis  Snodgrass!" 

Tracy  merely  exhibited  signs  of  increased  fatigue. 
The  girl  was  outraged  by  this  iron  indifference  and 
callousness,  and  cried  out: 

"What  are  you  made  of?" 
241 


MARK    TWAIN 

"I?     Why?" 

"Haven't  you  any  sensitiveness?  Don't  these 
things  touch  any  poor  remnant  of  delicate  feeling 
in  you?" 

"N-no,"  he  said,  wonderingly,  "they  don't  seem 
to.  Why  should  they?" 

"Oh,  dear  me,  how  can  you  look  so  innocent,  and 
foolish,  and  good,  and  empty,  and  gentle,  and  all 
that,  right  in  the  hearing  of  such  things  as  those! 
Look  me  in  the  eye — straight  in  the  eye.  There, 
now  then,  answer  me  without  a  flinch.  Isn't  Dr. 
Snodgrass  your  father,  and  isn't  Zylobalsamum  your 
brother  "  (here  Hawkins  was  about  to  enter  the  room, 
but  changed  his  mind  upon  hearing  these  words,  and 
elected  for  a  walk  down-town,  and  so  glided  swiftly 
away),  "and  isn't  your  name  Spinal  Meningitis,  and 
isn't  your  father  a  doctor  and  an  idiot,  like  all  the 
family  for  generations,  and  doesn't  he  name  all  his 
children  after  poisons  and  pestilences  and  abnormal 
anatomical  eccentricities  of  the  human  body?  An- 
swer me,  some  way  or  somehow — and  quick.  Why 
do  you  sit  there  looking  like  an  envelope  without  any 
address  on  it  and  see  me  going  mad  before  your  face 
with  suspense?" 

"Oh,  I  wish  I  could  do — do — I  wish  I  could  do 
something,  anything  that  would  give  you  peace  again 
and  make  you  happy;  but  I  know  of  nothing — I 
know  of  no  way.  I  have  never  heard  of  these  awful 
people  before." 

"What?    Say  it  again!" 

"I  have  never — never  in  my  life  till  now." 

"Oh,  you  do  look  so  honest  when  you  say  that! 
243 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

It  must  be  true — surely  you  couldn't  look  that  way, 
you  wouldn't  look  that  way  if  it  were  not  true — 
would  you?" 

"I  couldn't  and  wouldn't.  It  is  true.  Oh,  let  us 
end  this  suffering — take  me  back  into  your  heart  and 
confidence — " 

"Wait — one  more  thing.  Tell  me  you  told  that 
falsehood  out  of  mere  vanity  and  are  sorry  for  it; 
that  you're  not  expecting  to  ever  wear  the  coronet 
of  an  earl — " 

"Truly  I  am  cured — cured  this  very  day — I  am 
not  expecting  it!" 

"Oh,  now  you  are  mine!  I've  got  you  back  in  the 
beauty  and  glory  of  your  unsmirched  poverty  and 
your  honorable  obscurity,  and  nobody  shall  ever  take 
you  from  me  again  but  the  grave!  And  if — " 

"De  Earl  of  Rossmore,  fum  Englan'!" 

"My  father!"  The  young  man  released  the  girl 
and  hung  his  head. 

The  old  gentleman  stood  surveying  the  couple — 
the  one  with  a  strongly  complimentary  right  eye,  the 
other  with  a  mixed  expression  done  with  the  left. 
This  is  difficult,  and  not  often  resorted  to.  Pres- 
ently his  face  relaxed  into  a  kind  of  constructive 
gentleness,  and  he  said  to  his  son: 

"Don't  you  think  you  could  embrace  me,  too?" 

The  young  man  did  it  with  alacrity. 

"Then  you  are  the  son  of  an  earl,  after  all,"  said 
Sally,  reproachfully. 

"Yes,  I—" 

"Then  I  won't  have  you!" 

"Oh,  but  you  know— " 
243 


MARK    TWAIN 

"No,  I  will  not.    You've  told  me  another  fib." 

"She's  right.  Go  away  and  leave  us.  I  want  to 
talk  with  her." 

Berkeley  was  obliged  to  go.  But  he  did  not  go 
far.  He  remained  on  the  premises.  At  midnight  the 
conference  between  the  old  gentleman  and  the  young 
girl  was  still  going  blithely  on,  but  it  presently  drew 
to  a  close,  and  the  former  said: 

"I  came  all  the  way  over  here  to  inspect  you,  my 
dear,  with  the  general  idea  of  breaking  off  this 
match  if  there  were  two  fools  of  you,  but  as  there's 
only  one,  you  can  have  him  if  you'll  take  him." 

"Indeed,  I  will,  then      May  I  kiss  you?" 

' '  You  may.  Thank  you.  Now  you  shall  have  that 
privilege  whenever  you  are  good." 

Meantime  Hawkins  had  long  ago  returned  and 
slipped  up  into  the  laboratory.  He  was  rather 
disconcerted  to  find  his  late  invention,  Snodgrass, 
there.  The  news  was  told  him:  that  the  English 
Rossmore  was  come,  "and  I'm  his  son,  Viscount 
Berkeley,  not  Howard  Tracy  any  more." 

Hawkins  was  aghast.     He  said: 

"Good  gracious,  then  you're  dead!" 

"Dead?" 

"Yes,  you  are — we've  got  your  ashes." 

"Hang  those  ashes,  I'm  tired  of  them;  I'll  give 
them  to  my  father." 

Slowly  and  painrully  the  statesman  worked  the 
truth  into  his  head  that  this  was  really  a  flesh-and- 
blood  young  man,  and  not  the  insubstantial  resur- 
rection he  and  Sellers  had  so  long  supposed  him  to 
be.  Then  he  said,  with  feeling : 

244 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

"I'm  so  glad;  so  glad  on  Sally's  account,  poor 
thing.  We  took  you  for  a  departed  materialized  bank 
thief  from  Tahlequah.  This  will  be  a  heavy  blow  to 
Sellers."  Then  he  explained  the  whole  matter  to 
Berkeley,  who  said: 

' '  Well,  the  Claimant  must  manage  to  stand  the  blow, 
severe  as  it  is.  But  he'll  get  over  the  disappointment. ' ' 

"Who — the  Colonel?  He'll  get  over  it  the  minute 
he  invents  a  new  miracle  to  take  its  place.  And 
he's  already  at  it  by  this  time.  But  look  here — what 
do  you  suppose  became  of  the  man  you've  been 
representing  all  this  time?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  saved  his  clothes — it  was  all  I 
could  do.  I  am  afraid  he  lost  his  life." 

"Well,  you  must  have  found  twenty  or  thirty 
thousand  dollars  in  those  clothes  in  money  or  cer- 
tificates of  deposit." 

"No,  I  found  only  five  hundred  and  a  trifle.  I 
borrowed  the  trifle  and  banked  the  five  hundred." 

"What  '11  we  do  about  it?" 

"Return  it  to  the  owner." 

"It's  easy  said,  but  not  easy  to  manage.  Let's 
leave  it  alone  till  we  get  Sellers's  advice.  And  that 
reminds  me.  I've  got  to  run  and  meet  Sellers  and 
explain  who  you  are  not  and  who  you  are,  or  he'll 
come  thundering  in  here  to  stop  his  daughter  from 
marrying  a  phantom.  But — suppose  your  father 
came  over  here  to  break  off  the  match?" 

"Well,  isn't  he  down-stairs  getting  acquainted  with 
Sally?  That's  all  safe." 

So  Hawkins  departed  to  meet  and  prepare  the 
Sellerses. 

245 


MARK     TWAIN 

Rossmore  Towers  saw  great  times  and  late  hours 
during  the  succeeding  week.  The  two  earls  were  such 
opposites  in  nature  that  they  fraternized  at  once. 
Sellers  said  privately  that  Rossmore  was  the  most 
extraordinary  character  he  had  ever  met — a  man  just 
made  out  of  the  condensed  milk  of  human  kindness, 
yet  with  the  ability  to  totally  hide  the  fact  from 
any  but  the  most  practised  character-reader;  a  man 
tfhose  whole  being  was  sweetness,  patience,  and 
charity,  yet  with  a  cunning  so  profound,  an  ability 
so  marvelous  in  the  acting  of  a  double  part,  that 
many  a  person  of  considerable  intelligence  might 
live  with  him  for  centuries  and  never  suspect  the 
presence  in  him  of  these  characteristics. 

Finally  there  was  a  quiet  wedding  at  the  Towers, 
instead  of  a  big  one  at  the  British  Embassy,  with  the 
militia  and  the  fire  brigades  and  the  temperance 
organizations  on  hand  in  torchlight  procession,  as  at 
first  proposed  by  one  of  the  earls.  The  art  firm  and 
Barrow  were  present  at  the  wedding,  and  the  tinner 
and  Puss  had  been  invited,  but  the  tinner  was  ill 
and  Puss  was  nursing  him  —  for  they  were  en- 
gaged. 

The  Sellerses  were  to  go  to  England  with  their  new 
allies  for  a  brief  visit,  but  when  it  was  time  to  take 
the  train  from  Washington  the  Colonel  was  missing. 
Hawkins  was  going  as  far  as  New  York  with  the 
party,  and  said  he  would  explain  the  matter  on  the 
road.  The  explanation  was  in  a  letter  left  by  the 
Colonel  in  Hawkins's  hands.  In  it  he  promised  to 
join  Mrs.  Sellers  later  in  England,  and  then  went 
on  to  say : 

240 


"FINALLY  THERE  WAS  A  QUIET  WEDDING  AT  THE  TOWERS' 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

The  truth  is,  my  dear  Hawkins,  a  mighty  idea  has  been  born 
to  me  within  the  hour,  and  I  must  not  even  stop  to  say  good-by 
to  my  dear  ones.  A  man's  highest  duty  takes  precedence  of 
all  minor  ones,  and  must  be  attended  to  with  his  best  prompt- 
ness and  energy,  at  whatsoever  cost  to  his  affections  or  his 
convenience.  And  first  of  all  a  man's  duties  is  his  duty  to  his 
own  honor — he  must  keep  that  spotless.  Mine  is  threatened. 
When  I  was  feeling  sure  of  my  imminent  future  solidity,  I 
forwarded  to  the  Czar  of  Russia — perhaps  prematurely — an 
offer  for  the  purchase  of  Siberia,  naming  a  vast  sum.  Since  then 
an  episode  has  warned  me  that  the  method  by  which  I  was 
expecting  to  acquire  this  money — materialization  upon  a  scale 
of  limitless  magnitude — is  marred  by  a  taint  of  temporary 
uncertainty.  His  imperial  majesty  may  accept  my  offer  at  any 
moment.  If  this  should  occur  now,  I  should  find  myself  pain- 
fully embarrassed — in  fact,  financially  inadequate.  I  could  not 
take  Siberia.  This  would  become  known,  and  my  credit  would 
suffer. 

Recently  my  private  hours  have  been  dark  indeed,  but  the 
sun  shines  again  now;  I  see  my  way;  I  shall  be  able  to  meet 
my  obligation,  and  without  having  to  ask  an  extension  of  the 
stipulated  time,  I  think.  This  grand  new  idea  of  mine — the 
sublimest  I  have  ever  conceived — will  save  me  whole,  I  am  sure. 
I  am  leaving  for  San  Francisco  this  moment  to  test  it  by  the 
help  of  the  great  Lick  telescope.  Like  all  of  my  more  notable 
discoveries  and  inventions,  it  is  based  upon  hard,  practical 
scientific  laws;  all  other  bases  are  unsound,  and  hence  un- 
trustworthy. 

In  brief,  then,  I  have  conceived  the  stupendous  idea  of  re- 
organizing the  climates  of  the  earth  according  to  the  desire  of 
the  populations  interested.  That  is  to  say,  I  will  furnish 
climates  to  order,  for  cash  or  negotiable  paper,  taking  the  old 
climates  in  part  payment,  of  course,  at  a  fair  discount,  where 
they  are  in  condition  to  be  repaired  at  small  cost  and  let  out 
for  hire  to  poor  and  remote  communities  not  able  to  afford  a 
good  climate  and  not  caring  for  an  expensive  one  for  mere 
display.  My  studies  have  convinced  me  that  the  regulation  of 
climates  and  the  breeding  of  new  varieties  at  will  from  the  old 
stock  is  a  feasible  thing;  indeed,  I  am  convinced  that  it  has 
been  done  before,  done  in  prehistoric  times  by  now  forgotten  and 
unrecorded  civilizations.  Everywhere  I  find  hoary  evidences  of 

247 


MARK     TWAIN 

artificial  manipulation  of  climates  in  bygone  times.  Take  the 
glacial  period.  Was  that  produced  by  accident?  Not  at  all; 
it  was  done  for  money.  I  have  a  thousand  proofs  of  it,  and 
will  some  day  reveal  them. 

I  will  confide  to  you  an  outline  of  my  idea.  It  is  to  utilize 
the  spots  on  the  sun — get  control  of  them,  you  understand,  and 
apply  the  stupendous  energies  which  they  wield  to  beneficent 
purposes  in  the  reorganization  of  our  climates.  At  present  they 
merely  make  trouble  and  do  harm  in  the  evoking  of  cyclones 
and  other  kinds  of  electric  storms;  but  once  under  humane  and 
intelligent  control  this  will  cease,  and  they  will  become  a  boon 
to  man. 

I  have  my  plan  all  mapped  out,  whereby  I  hope  and  expect 
to  acquire  complete  and  perfect  control  of  the  sun-spots,  also 
details  of  the  method  whereby  I  shall  employ  the  same  com- 
mercially; but  I  will  not  venture  to  go  into  particulars  before  the 
patents  shall  have  been  issued.  I  shall  hope  and  expect  to  sell 
shop-rights  to  the  minor  countries  at  a  reasonable  figure,  and 
supply  a  good  business  article  of  climate  to  the  great  empires 
at  special  rate,  together  with  fancy  brands  for  coronations, 
battles,  and  other  great  and  particular  occasions.  There  are 
billions  of  money  in  this  enterprise,  no  expensive  plant  is  re- 
quired, and  I  shall  begin  to  realize  in  a  few  days — in  a  few 
weeks  at  furthest.  I  shall  stand  ready  to  pay  cash  for  Siberia 
the  moment  it  is  delivered,  and  thus  save  my  honor  and  my 
credit.  I  am  confident  of  this. 

I  would  like  you  to  provide  a  proper  outfit  and  start  north 
as  soon  as  I  telegraph  you,  be  it  night  or  be  it  day.  I  wish 
you  to  take  up  all  the  country  stretching  away  from  the  north 
pole  on  all  sides  for  many  degrees  south,  and  buy  Greenland  and 
Iceland  at  the  best  figure  you  can  get  now  while  they  are  cheap. 
It  is  my  intention  to  move  one  of  the  tropics  up  there  and 
transfer  the  frigid  zone  to  the  equator.  I  will  have  the  entire 
Arctic  Circle  in  the  market  as  a  summer  resort  next  year,  and 
will  use  the  surplusage  of  the  old  climate,  over  and  above  what 
can  be  utilized  on  the  equator,  to  reduce  the  temperature  of 
opposition  resorts.  But  I  have  said  enough  to  give  you  an  idea 
of  the  prodigious  nature  of  my  scheme  and  the  feasible  and 
enormously  profitable  character  of  it.  I  shall  join  all  you  hap- 
py people  in  England  as  soon  as  I  shall  have  sold  out  some  of 
my  principal  climates  and  arranged  with  the  Czar  about  Siberia, 

248 


THE    AMERICAN    CLAIMANT 

Meantime,  watch  for  a  sign  from  me.  Eight  days  from  now 
we  shall  be  wide  asunder;  for  I  shall  be  on  the  border  of  the 
Pacific,  and  you  far  out  on  the  Atlantic,  approaching  England. 
That  day,  if  I  am  alive  and  my  sublime  discovery  is  proved  and 
established,  I  will  send  you  greeting,  and  my  messenger  shall 
deliver  it  where  you  are,  in  the  solitudes  of  the  sea;  for  I  will 
waft  a  vast  sun-spot  across  the  disk  like  drifting  smoke,  and 
you  will  know  it  for  my  love-sign,  and  will  say,  "  Mulberry  Sellers 
throws  us  a  kiss  across  the  universe." 


APPENDIX 

WEATHER  FOR  USE  IN  THIS  BOOK 
Selected  from  the  best  authorities 

A  brief  though  violent  thunder-storm  which  had  raged  over 
the  city  was  passing  away;  but  still,  though  the  rain  had  ceased 
more  than  an  hour  before,  wild  piles  of  dark  and  coppery  clouds, 
in  which  a  fierce  and  rayless  glow  was  laboring,  gigantically 
overhung  the  grotesque  and  huddled  vista  of  dwarf  houses, 
while  in  the  distance,  sheeting  high  over  the  low,  misty  con- 
fusion of  gables  and  chimneys,  spread  a  pall  of  dead,  leprous 
blue,  suffused  with  blotches  of  dull,  glistening  yellow,  and  with 
black  plague-spots  of  vapor  floating  and  faint  lightnings  crink- 
ling on  its  surface.  Thunder,  still  muttering  in  the  close  and 
sultry  air,  kept  the  scared  dwellers  in  the  street  within,  behind 
their  closed  shutters;  and  all  deserted,  cowed,  dejected,  squalid, 
like  poor,  stupid,  top-heavy  things  that  had  felt  the  wrath  of 
the  summer  tempest,  stood  the  drenched  structures  on  either 
side  of  the  narrow  and  crooked  way,  ghastly  and  picturesque 
under  the  giant  canopy.  Rain  dripped  wretchedly  in  slow 
drops  of  melancholy  sound  from  their  projecting  eaves  upon 
the  broken  flagging,  lay  there  in  pools  or  triclcled  into  the 
swollen  drains,  where  the  fallen  torrent  sullenly  gurgled  on  its 
way  to  the  river. — "The  Brazen  Android":  W.  D.  O'Connor. 

The  fiery  mid-March  sun  a  moment  hung 

Above  the  bleak  Judean  wilderness; 

Then  darkness  swept  upon  us,  and  'twas  night. 

—"Easter-Eve  at  Kerak-Moab":  Clinton  Scollard. 

The  quick-coming  winter  twilight  was  already  at  hand.  Snow 
was  again  falling,  sifting  delicately  down,  incidentally  as  it 
were. — "Felicia":  Fanny  N.  D.  Murfree. 

250 


APPENDIX 

Merciful  heavens!  The  whole  west,  from  right  to  left,  blazes 
up  with  a  fierce  light,  and  next  instant  the  earth  reels  and  quivers 
with  the  awful  shock  of  ten  thousand  batteries  of  artillery.  It 
is  the  signal  for  the  Fury  to  spring — for  a  thousand  demons  to 
scream  and  shriek — for  innumerable  serpents  of  fire  to  writhe 
and  light  up  the  blackness. 

Now  the  rain  falls — now  the  wind  is  let  loose  with  a  terrible 
shriek — now  the  lightning  is  so  constant  that  the  eyes  burn,  and 
the  thunderclaps  merge  into  an  awful  roar,  as  did  the  eight  hun- 
dred cannon  at  Gettysburg.  Crash!  Crash!  Crash!  It  is  the 
cottonwood-trees  falling  to  earth.  Shriek!  Shriek!  Shriek!  It  is 
the  Demon  racing  along  the  plain  and  uprooting  even  the  blades 
of  grass.  Shock!  Shock!  Shock!  It  is  the  Fury  flinging  his  fiery 
bolts  into  the  bosom  of  the  earth.  —  "  The  Demon  and  the  Fury  ": 
M.  Quad. 

Away  up  the  gorge  all  diurnal  fancies  trooped  into  the  wide 
liberties  of  endless  luminous  vistas  of  azure  sunlit  mountains 
beneath  the  shining  azure  heavens.  The  sky,  looking  down  in 
deep  blue  placidities,  only  here  and  there  smote  the  water  to 
azure  emulations  of  its  tint. — "In  the  'Stranger  People's'  Coun- 
try:" Charles  Egbert  Craddock. 

There  was  every  indication  of  a  dust-storm,  though  the  sun 
still  shone  brilliantly.  The  hot  wind  had  become  wild  and 
rampant.  It  was  whipping  up  the  sandy  coating  of  the  plain 
in  every  direction.  High  in  the  air  were  seen  whirling  spires 
and  cones  of  sand — a  curious  effect  against  the  deep-blue  sky. 
Below,  puffs  of  sand  were  breaking  out  of  the  plain  in  every 
direction,  as  though  the  plain  were  alive  with  invisible  horse- 
men. These  sandy  cloudlets  were  instantly  dissipated  by  the 
wind;  it  was  the  larger  clouds  that  were  lifted  whole  into  the 
air,  and  the  larger  clouds  of  sand  were  becoming  more  and  more 
the  rule. 

Alfred's  eye,  quickly  scanning  the  horizon,  descried  the  roof 
of  the  boundary-rider's  hut  still  gleaming  in  the  sunlight.  He 
remembered  the  hut  well.  It  could  not  be  farther  than  four 
miles,  if  as  much  as  that,  from  this  point  of  the  track.  He  also 
knew  these  dust-storms  of  old;  Bindarra  was  notorious  for 
them.  Without  thinking  twice,  Alfred  put  spurs  to  his  horse 
and  headed  for  the  hut.  Before  he  had  ridden  half  the  distance 

251 


MARK     TWAIN 

the  detached  clouds  of  sand  banded  together  in  one  dense  whirl- 
wind, and  it  was  only  owing  to  his  horse's  instinct  that  he  did 
not  ride  wide  of  the  hut  altogether;  for  during  the  last  half-mile 
he  never  saw  the  hut,  until  its  outline  loomed  suddenly  over 
his  horse's  ears;  and  by  then  the  sun  was  invisible. — "A  Bride 
from  the  Bush" 

And  the  rain  was  upon  the  earth  forty  days  and  forty  nights. 
— Genesis. 


MERRY    TALES 


Acknowledgment  should  be  made  to  the  Century  Company  and  to 
Messrs.  Harper  &*  Brothers  for  kind  permission  to  reprint  several- 
of  these  stories  from  the  "Century"  and  "Harper's  Magazine." . 


THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF    A 
CAMPAIGN   THAT    FAILED 

YOU  have  heard  from  a  great  many  people  who 
did  something  in  the  war;  is  it  not  fair  and  right 
that  you  listen  a  little  moment  to  one  who  started 
out  to  do  something  in  it,  but  didn't?  Thousands 
entered  the  war,  got  just  a  taste  of  it,  and  then 
stepped  out  again  permanently.  These,  by  their  very 
numbers,  are  respectable,  and  are  therefore  entitled 
to  a  sort  of  voice — not  a  loud  one,  but  a  modest  one; 
not  a  boastful  one,  but  an  apologetic  one.  They 
ought  not  to  be  allowed  much  space  among  better 
people — people  who  did  something.  I  grant  that; 
but  they  ought  at  least  to  be  allowed  to  state  why 
they  didn't  do  anything,  and  also  to  explain  the 
process  by  which  they  didn't  do  anything.  Surely 
this  kind  of  light  must  have  a  sort  of  value. 

Out  West  there  was  a  good  deal  of  confusion  in 
men's  minds  during  the  first  months  of  the  great 
trouble — a  good  deal  of  unsettledness,  of  leaning  first 
this  way,  then  that,  then  the  other  way.  It  was 
hard  for  us  to  get  our  bearings.  I  call  to  mind  an 
instance  of  this.  I  was  piloting  on  the  Mississippi 
when  the  news  came  that  South  Carolina  had  gone 
out  of  the  Union  on  the  2oth  of  December,  1860. 
My  pilot  mate  was  a  New-Yorker.  He  was  strong 
17  25S 


MARK    TWAIN 

for  the  Union;  so  was  I.  But  he  would  not  listen  to 
me  with  any  patience;  my  loyalty  was  smirched,  to 
his  eye,  because  my  father  had  owned  slaves.  I 
said,  in  palliation  of  this  dark  fact,  that  I  had  heard 
my  father  say,  some  years  before  he  died,  that 
slavery  was  a  great  wrong,  and  that  he  would  free 
the  solitary  negro  he  then  owned  if  he  could  think 
it  right  to  give  away  the  property  of  the  family  when 
he  was  so  straitened  in  means.  My  mate  retorted 
that  a  mere  impulse  was  nothing — anybody  could 
pretend  to  a  good  impulse;  and  went  on  decrying  my 
Unionism  and  libeling  my  ancestry.  A  month  later 
the  secession  atmosphere  had  considerably  thickened 
on  the  Lower  Mississippi,  and  I  became  a  rebel;  so 
did  he.  We  were  together  in  New  Orleans  the  26th 
of  January,  when  Louisiana  went  out  of  the  Union. 
He  did  his  full  share  of  the  rebel  shouting,  but  was 
bitterly  opposed  to  letting  me  do  mine.  He  said 
that  I  came  of  bad  stock — of  a  father  who  had  been 
willing  to  set  slaves  free.  In  the  following  summer 
he  was  piloting  a  Federal  gunboat  and  shouting  for 
the  Union  again,  and  I  was  in  the  Confederate  army. 
I  held  his  note  for  some  borrowed  money.  He  was 
one  of  the  most  upright  men  I  ever  knew,  but  he 
repudiated  that  note  without  hesitation  because  I 
was  a  rebel  and  the  son  of  a  man  who  owned 
slaves. 

In  that  summer — of  1861 — the  first  wash  of  the 
wave  of  war  broke  upon  the  shores  of  Missouri.  Our 
state  was  nvaded  by  he  Union  forces.  They  took 
possession  of  St.  Louis,  Jefferson  Barracks,  and  some 
other  points.  The  Governor,  Claib  Jackson,  issued 

256 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

his  proclamation  calling  out  fifty  thousand  militia  to 
repel  the  invader. 

I  was  visiting  in  the  small  town  where  my  boyhood 
had  been  spent — Hannibal,  Marion  County.  Several 
of  us  got  together  in  a  secret  place  by  night  and 
formed  ourselves  into  a  military  company.  One 
Tom  Lyman,  a  young  fellow  of  a  good  deal  of  spirit 
but  of  no  military  experience,  was  made  captain;  I 
was  made  second  lieutenant.  We  had  no  first  lieu- 
tenant; I  do  not  know  why;  it  was  long  ago.  There 
were  fifteen  of  us.  By  the  advice  of  an  innocent 
connected  with  the  organization  we  called  ourselves 
the  Marion  Rangers.  I  do  not  remember  that  any 
one  found  fault  with  the  name.  I  did  not ;  I  thought 
it  sounded  quite  well.  The  young  fellow  who  pro- 
posed this  title  was  perhaps  a  fair  sample  of  the  kind 
of  stuff  we  were  made  of.  He  was  young,  ignorant, 
good-natured,  well-meaning,  trivial,  full  of  romance, 
and  given  to  reading  chivalric  novels  and  singing 
forlorn  love-ditties.  He  had  some  pathetic  little 
nickel-plated  aristocratic  instincts,  and  detested  his 
name,  which  was  Dunlap ;  detested  it,  partly  because 
it  was  nearly  as  common  in  that  region  as  Smith, 
but  mainly  because  it  had  a  plebeian  sound  to  his 
ear.  So  he  tried  to  ennoble  it  by  writing  it  in  this 
way:  d'Unlap.  That  contented  his  eye,  but  left  his 
ear  unsatisfied,  for  people  gave  the  new  name  the 
same  old  pronunciation — emphasis  on  the  front  end 
of  it.  He  then  did  the  bravest  thing  that  can  be 
imagined — a  thing  to  make  one  shiver  when  one  re- 
members how  the  world  is  given  to  resenting  shams 
and  affectations;  he  began  to  write  his  name  so: 

257 


MARK    TWAIN 

d'Un  Lap.  And  he  waited  patiently  through  the 
long  storm  of  mud  that  was  flung  at  this  work  of  art, 
and  he  had  his  reward  at  last;  for  he  lived  to  see 
that  name  accepted,  and  the  emphasis  put  where  he 
wanted  it  by  people  who  had  known  him  all  his  life, 
and  to  whom  the  tribe  of  Dunlaps  had  been  as  fa- 
miliar as  the  rain  and  the  sunshine  for  forty  years. 
So  sure  of  victory  at  last  is  the  courage  that  can  wait. 
He  said  he  had  found,  by  consulting  some  ancient 
French  chronicles,  that  the  name  was  rightly  and 
originally  written  d'Un  Lap;  and  said  that  if  it  were 
translated  into  English  it  would  mean  Peterson :  Lap, 
Latin  or  Greek,  he  said,  for  stone  or  rock,  same  as 
the  French  pierre,  that  is  to  say,  Peter:  d',  of  or  from; 
un,  a  or  one;  hence,  d'Un  Lap,  of  or  from  a  stone 
or  a  Peter;  that  is  to  say,  one  who  is  the  son  of  a 
stone,  the  son  of  a  Peter — Peterson.  Our  militia 
company  were  not  learned,  and  the  explanation  con- 
fused them;  so  they  called  him  Peterson  Dunlap. 
He  proved  useful  to  us  in  his  way;  he  named  our 
camps  for  us,  and  he  generally  struck  a  name  that 
was  "no  slouch,"  as  the  boys  said. 

That  is  one  sample  of  us.  Another  was  Ed  Stevens, 
son  of  the  town  jeweler — trim-built,  handsome,  grace- 
ful, neat  as  a  cat ;  bright,  educated,  but  given  over 
entirely  to  fun.  There  was  nothing  serious  in  life 
to  him.  As  far  as  he  was  concerned,  this  military 
expedition  of  ours  was  simply  a  holiday.  I  should 
say  that  about  half  of  us  looked  upon  it  in  the  same 
way;  not  consciously,  perhaps,  but  unconsciously. 
We  did  not  think;  we  were  not  capable  of  it.  As  for 
myself,  I  was  full  of  unreasoning  joy  to  be  done  with 

358 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

turning  out  of  bed  at  midnight  and  four  in  the  morn- 
ing for  a  while;  grateful  to  have  a  change,  new 
scenes,  new  occupations,  a  new  interest.  In  my 
thoughts  that  was  as  far  as  I  went ;  I  did  not  go  into 
the  details;  as  a  rule,  one  doesn't  at  twenty-four. 

Another  sample  was  Smith,  the  blacksmith's  ap- 
prentice. This  vast  donkey  had  some  pluck,  of  a 
slow  and  sluggish  nature,  but  a  soft  heart;  at  one 
time  he  would  knock  a  horse  down  for  some  impro- 
priety, and  at  another  he  would  get  homesick  and 
cry.  However,  he  had  one  ultimate  credit  to  his 
account  which  some  of  us  hadn't;  he  stuck  to  the 
war,  and  was  killed  in  battle  at  last. 

Jo  Bowers,  another  sample,  was  a  huge,  good- 
natured,  flax-headed  lubber;  lazy,  sentimental,  full 
of  harmless  brag,  a  grumbler  by  nature;  an  experi- 
enced, industrious,  ambitious,  and  often  quite  pic- 
turesque liar,  and  yet  not  a  successful  one,  for  he 
had  had  no  intelligent  training,  but  was  allowed  to 
come  up  just  any  way.  This  life  was  serious  enough 
to  him,  and  seldom  satisfactory.  But  he  was  a  good 
fellow,  anyway,  and  the  boys  all  liked  him.  He  was 
made  orderly  sergeant;  Stevens  was  made  corporal. 

These  samples  will  answer — and  they  are  quite 
fair  ones.  Well,  this  herd  of  cattle  started  for  the 
war.  What  could  you  expect  of  them?  They  did 
as  well  as  they  knew  how;  but, really, what  was  justly 
to  be  expected  of  them?  Nothing,  I  should  say. 
That  is  what  they  did. 

We  waited  for  a  dark  night,  for  caution  and  se- 
crecy were  necessary;  then,  toward  midnight,  we 
stole  in  couples  and  from  various  directions  to  the 

259 


MARK    TWAIN 

Griffith  place,  beyond  the  town;  from  that  point  we 
set  out  together  on  foot.  Hannibal  lies  at  the  ex- 
treme southeastern  corner  of  Marion  County,  on  the 
Mississippi  River;  our  objective  point  was  the  hamlet 
of  New  London,  ten  miles  away,  in  Rails  County. 

The  first  hour  was  all  fun,  all  idle  nonsense  and 
laughter.  But  that  could  not  be  kept  up.  The 
steady  trudging  came  to  be  like  work;  the  play  had 
somehow  oozed  out  of  it;  the  stillness  of  the  woods 
and  the  somberness  of  the  night  began  to  throw  a 
depressing  influence  over  the  spirits  of  the  boys,  and 
presently  the  talking  died. out  and  each  person  shut 
himself  up  in  his  own  thoughts.  During  the  last  half 
of  the  second  hour  nobody  said  a  word. 

Now  we  approached  a  log  farm-house  where,  ac- 
cording to  report,  there  was  a  guard  of  five  Union 
soldiers  Lyman  called  a  halt;  and  there,  in  the 
deep  gloom  of  the  overhanging  branches,  he  began  to 
whisper  a  plan  of  assault  upon  that  house,  which 
made  the  gloom  more  depressing  than  it  was  before. 
It  was  a  crucial  moment;  we  realized,  with  a  cold 
suddenness,  that  here  was  no  jest — we  were  standing 
face  to  face  with  actual  war.  We  were  equal  to  the 
occasion.  In  our  response  there  was  no  hesitation, 
no  indecision:  we  said  that  if  Lyman  wanted  to 
meddle  with  those  soldiers,  he  could  go  ahead  and  do 
it;  but  if  he  waited  for  us  to  follow  him,  he  would 
wait  a  long  time. 

Lyman  urged,  pleaded,  tried  to  shame  us,  but  it 
had  no  effect.  Our  course  was  plain,  our  minds  were 
made  up:  we  would  flank  the  farm-house — go  out 
around.  And  that  was  what  we  did. 

260 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

We  struck  into  the  woods  and  entered  upon  a 
rough  time,  stumbling  over  roots,  getting  tangled  in 
vines,  and  torn  by  briers.  At  last  we  reached  an 
open  place  in  a  safe  region,  and  sat  down,  blown  and 
hot,  to  cool  off  and  nurse  our  scratches  and  bruises. 
Lyman  was  annoyed,  but  the  rest  of  us  were  cheerful; 
we  had  flanked  the  farm-house,  we  had  made  our 
first  military  movement,  and  it  was  a  success;  we  had 
nothing  to  fret  about,  we  were  feeling  just  the  other 
way.  Horse-play  and  laughing  began  again;  the  ex- 
pedition was  become  a  holiday  frolic  once  more. 

Then  we  had  two  more  hours  of  dull  trudging  and 
ultimate  silence  and  depression;  then,  about  dawn, 
we  straggled  into  New  London,  soiled,  heel-blistered, 
fagged  with  our  little  march,  and  all  of  us  except 
Stevens  in  a  sour  and  raspy  humor  and  privately 
down  on  the  war.  We  stacked  our  shabby  old  shot- 
guns in  Colonel  Ralls's  barn,  and  then  went  in 
a  body  and  breakfasted  with  that  veteran  of  the 
Mexican  War.  Afterward  he  took  us  to  a  distant 
meadow,  and  there  in  the  shade  of  a  tree  we  listened 
to  an  old-fashioned  speech  from  him,  full  of  gun- 
powder and  glory,  full  of  that  adjective-piling,  mixed 
metaphor  and  windy  declamation  which  were  re- 
garded as  eloquence  in  that  ancient  time  and  that 
remote  region;  and  then  he  swore  us  on  the  Bible  to 
be  faithful  to  the  State  of  Missouri  and  drive  all 
invaders  from  her  soil,  no  matter  whence  they  might 
come  or  under  what  flag  they  might  march.  This 
mixed  us  considerably,  and  we  could  not  make  out 
just  what  service  we  were  embarked  in;  but  Colonel 
Rails,  the  practised  politician  and  phrase-juggler, 

261 


MARK     TWAIN 

was  not  similarly  in  doubt;  he  knew  quite  clearly 
that  he  had  invested  us  in  the  cause  of  the  Southern 
Confederacy.  He  closed  the  solemnities  by  belting 
around  me  the  sword  which  his  neighbor,  Colonel 
Brown,  had  worn  at  Buena  Vista  and  Molino  del  Rey ; 
and  he  accompanied  this  act  with  another  impressive 
blast. 

Then  we  formed  in  line  of  battle  and  marched  four 
miles  to  a  shady  and  pleasant  piece  of  woods  on  the 
border  of  the  far-reaching  expanses  of  a  flowery  prai- 
rie. It  was  an  enchanting  region  for  war — our  kind 
of  war. 

We  pierced  the  forest  about  half  a  mile,  and  took 
up  a  strong  position,  with  some  low,  rocky,  and 
wooded  hills  behind  us,  and  a  purling,  limpid  creek 
in  front.  Straightway  half  the  command  were  in 
swimming  and  the  other  half  fishing.  The  ass  with 
the  French  name  gave  this  position  a  romantic  title, 
but  it  was  too  long,  so  the  boys  shortened  and  simpli- 
fied it  to  Camp  Rails. 

We  occupied  an  old  maple-sugar  camp,  whose  half- 
rotted  troughs  were  still  propped  against  the  trees. 
A  long  corn-crib  served  for  sleeping-quarters  for 
the  battalion.  On  our  left,  half  a  mile  away,  were 
Mason's  farm  and  house ;  and  he  was  a  friend  to  the 
cause.  Shortly  after  noon  the  farmers  began  to  ar- 
rive from  several  directions,  with  mules  and  horses 
for  our  use,  and  these  they  lent  us  for  as  long  as  the 
war  might  last,  which  they  judged  would  be  about 
three  months.  The  animals  were  of  all  sizes,  all 
colors,  and  all  breeds.  They  were  mainly  young  and 
frisky,  and  nobody  in  the  command  could  stay  on 

262 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

them  long  at  a  time;  for  we  were  town  boys,  and 
ignorant  of  horsemanship.  The  creature  that  fell  to 
my  share  was  a  very  small  mule,  and  yet  so  quick 
and  active  that  it  could  throw  me  without  difficulty ; 
and  it  did  this  whenever  I  got  on  it.  Then  it  would 
bray — stretching  its  neck  out,  laying  its  ears  back, 
and  spreading  its  jaws  till  you  could  see  down  to  its 
works.  It  was  a  disagreeable  animal  in  every  way. 
If  I  took  it  by  the  bridle  and  tried  to  lead  it  off  the 
grounds,  it  would  sit  down  and  brace  back,  and  no 
one  could  budge  it.  However,  I  was  not  entirely 
destitute  of  military  resources,  and  I  did  presently 
manage  to  spoil  this  game;  for  I  had  seen  many  a 
steamboat  aground  in  my  time,  and  knew  a  trick  or 
two  which  even  a  grounded  mule  would  be  obliged 
to  respect.  There  was  a  well  by  the  corn-crib;  so 
I  substituted  thirty  fathom  of  rope  for  the  bridle, 
and  fetched  him  home  with  the  windlass. 

I  will  anticipate  here  sufficiently  to  say  that  we 
did  learn  to  ride,  after  some  days'  practice,  but  never 
well.  We  could  not  learn  to  like  our  animals;  they 
were  not  choice  ones,  and  most  of  them  had  annoy- 
ing peculiarities  of  one  kind  or  another.  Stevens 's 
horse  would  carry  him,  when  he  was  not  noticing,  un- 
der the  huge  excrescences  which  form  on  the  trunks 
of  oak-trees,  and  wipe  him  out  of  the  saddle;  in 
this  way  Stevens  got  several  bad  hurts.  Sergeant 
Bowers's  horse  was  very  large  and  tall,  with  slim, 
long  legs,  and  looked  like  a  railroad  bridge.  His  size 
enabled  him  to  reach  all  about,  and  as  far  as  he 
wanted  to,  with  his  head;  so  he  was  always  biting 
Bowers's  legs.  On  the  march,  in  the  sun,  Bowers 

263 


MARK     TWAIN 

slept  a  good  deal ;  and  as  soon  as  the  horse  recognized 
that  he  was  asleep  he  would  reach  around  and  bite 
him  on  the  leg.  His  legs  were  black  and  blue  with 
bites.  This  was  the  only  thing  that  could  ever  make 
him  swear,  but  this  always  did;  whenever  his  horse 
bit  him  he  always  swore,  and  of  course  Stevens,  who 
laughed  at  everything,  laughed  at  this,  and  would 
even  get  into  such  convulsions  over  it  as  to  lose  his 
balance  and  fall  off  his  horse;  and  then  Bowers, 
already  irritated  by  the  pain  of  the  horse-bite,  would 
resent  the  laughter  with  hard  language,  and  there 
would  be  a  quarrel;  so  that  horse  made  no  end  of 
trouble  and  bad  blood  in  the  command. 

However,  I  will  get  back  to  where  I  was — our  first 
afternoon  in  the  sugar -camp.  The  sugar  -  troughs 
came  very  handy  as  horse-troughs,  and  we  had  plenty 
of  corn  to  fill  them  with.  I  ordered  Sergeant  Bowers 
to  feed  my  mule;  but  he  said  that  if  I  reckoned  he 
went  to  war  to  be  a  dry-nurse  to  a  mule  it  wouldn't 
take  me  very  long  to  find  out  my  mistake.  I  be- 
lieved that  this  was  insubordination,  but  I  was  full 
of  uncertainties  about  everything  military,  and  so  I 
let  the  thing  pass,  and  went  and  ordered  Smith,  the 
blacksmith's  apprentice,  to  feed  the  mule;  but  he 
merely  gave  me  a  large,  cold,  sarcastic  grin,  such  as 
an  ostensibly  seven-year-old  horse  gives  you  when 
you  lift  his  lip  and  find  he  is  fourteen,  and  turned 
his  back  on  me.  I  then  went  to  the  captain,  and 
asked  if  it  were  not  right  and  proper  and  military  for 
me  to  have  an  orderly.  He  said  it  was,  but  as  there 
was  only  one  orderly  in  the  corps,  it  was  but  right 
that  he  himself  should  have  Bowers  on  his  staff. 

264 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

Bowers  said  he  wouldn't  serve  on  anybody's  staff; 
and  if  anybody  thought  he  could  make  him,  let  him 
try  it.  So,  of  course,  the  thing  had  to  be  dropped; 
there  was  no  other  way. 

Next,  nobody  would  cook;  it  was  considered  a 
degradation;  so  we  had  no  dinner.  We  lazied  the 
rest  of  the  pleasant  afternoon  away,  some  dozing 
under  the  trees,  some  smoking  cob-pipes  and  talking 
sweethearts  and  war,  some  playing  games.  By  late 
supper-time  all  hands  were  famished;  and  to  meet 
the  difficulty  all  hands  turned  to,  on  an  equal  footing, 
and  gathered  wood,  built  fires,  and  cooked  the  meal. 
Afterward  everything  was  smooth  for  a  while;  then 
trouble  broke  out  between  the  corporal  and  the 
sergeant,  each  claiming  to  rank  the  other.  Nobody 
knew  which  was  the  higher  office;  so  Lyman  had  to 
settle  the  matter  by  making  the  rank  of  both  officers 
equal.  The  commander  of  an  ignorant  crew  like 
that  has  many  troubles  and  vexations  which  prob- 
ably do  not  occur  in  the  regular  army  at  all.  How- 
ever, with  the  song-singing  and  yarn-spinning  around 
the  camp-fire,  everything  presently  became  serene 
again;  and  by  and  by  we  raked  the  corn  down  level 
in  one  end  of  the  crib,  and  all  went  to  bed  on  it,  tying 
a  horse  to  the  door,  so  that  he  would  neigh  if  any  one 
tried  to  get  in.1 

1  It  was  always  my  impression  that  that  was  what  the  horse 
was  there  for,  and  I  know  that  it  was  also  the  impression  of  at  least 
one  other  of  the  command,  for  we  talked  about  it  at  the  time,  and 
&dmired  the  military  ingenuity  of  the  device;  but  when  I  was  out 
West,  three  years  ago,  I  was  told  by  Mr.  A.  G.  Fuqua,  a  member 
of  our  company,  that  the  horse  was  his;  that  the  leaving  him  tied  at 
the  door  was  a  matter  of  mere  forgetfulness,  and  that  to  attribute 
it  to  intelligent  invention  was  to  give  him  quite  too  much  credit.  In 

265 


MARK    TWAIN 

We  had  some  horsemanship  drill  every  forenoon; 
then,  afternoons,  we  rode  off  here  and  there  in 
squads  a  few  miles,  and  visited  the  farmers'  girls,  and 
had  a  youthful  good  time,  and  got  an  honest  good 
dinner  or  supper,  and  then  home  again  to  camp, 
happy  and  content. 

For  a  time  life  was  idly  delicious,  it  was  perfect; 
there  was  nothing  to  mar  it.  Then  came  some 
fanners  with  an  alarm  one  day.  They  said  it  was 
rumored  that  the  enemy  were  advancing  in  our 
direction  from  over  Hyde's  prairie.  The  result  was 
a  sharp  stir  among  us,  and  general  consternation. 
It  was  a  rude  awakening  from  our  pleasant  trance. 
The  rumor  was  but  a  rumor — nothing  definite  about 
it ;  so,  in  the  confusion,  we  did  not  know  which  way 
to  retreat.  Lyman  was  for  not  retreating  at  all  in 
these  uncertain  circumstances;  but  he  found  that 
if  he  tried  to  maintain  that  attitude  he  would  fare 
badly,  for  the  command  were  in  no  humor  to  put 
up  with  insubordination.  So  he  yielded  the  point 
and  called  a  council  of  war — to  consist  of  himself  and 
the  three  other  officers;  but  the  privates  made  such 
a  fuss  about  being  left  out  that  we  had  to  allow 
them  to  remain,  for  they  were  already  present,  and 
doing  the  most  of  the  talking  too.  The  question  was, 
which  way  to  retreat ;  but  all  were  so  flurried  that  no- 
body seemed  to  have  even  a  guess  to  offer.  Except 
Lyman.  He  explained  in  a  few  calm  words  that, 
inasmuch  as  the  enemy  were  approaching  from  over 

support  of  his  position  he  called  my  attention  to  the  suggestive  fact 
that  the  artifice  was  not  employed  again.  I  had  not  thought  of 
that  before. 

266 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

Hyde's  prairie,  our  course  was  simple:  all  we  had  to 
do  was  not  to  retreat  toward  him;  any  other  direction 
would  answer  our  needs  perfectly.  Everybody  saw 
in  a  moment  how  true  this  was,  and  how  wise;  so 
Lyman  got  a  great  many  compliments.  It  was  now 
decided  that  we  should  fall  back  on  Mason's  farm. 
It  was  after  dark  by  this  time,  and  as  we  could 
not  know  how  soon  the  enemy  might  arrive,  it  did 
not  seem  best  to  try  to  take  the  horses  and  things 
with  us;  so  we  only  took  the  guns  and  ammunition, 
and  started  at  once.  The  route  was  very  rough  and 
hilly  and  rocky,  and  presently  the  night  grew  very 
black  and  rain  began  to  fall ;  so  we  had  a  troublesome 
time  of  it,  struggling  and  stumbling  along  in  the  dark; 
and  soon  some  person  slipped  and  fell,  and  then  the 
next  person  behind  stumbled  over  him  and  fell,  and  so 
did  the  rest,  one  after  the  other;  and  then  Bowers 
came,  with  the  keg  of  powder  in  his  arms,  while  the 
command  were  all  mixed  together,  arms  and  legs,  on 
the  muddy  slope;  and  so  he  fell,  of  course,  with  the 
keg,  and  this  started  the  whole  detachment  down 
the  hill  in  a  body,  and  they  landed  in  the  brook  at 
the  bottom  in  a  pile,  and  each  that  was  undermost 
pulling  the  hair  and  scratching  and  biting  those  that 
were  on  top  of  him;  and  those  that  were  being 
scratched  and  bitten  scratching  and  biting  the  rest 
in  their  turn,  and  all  saying  they  would  die  before 
they  would  ever  go  to  war  again  if  they  ever  got  out 
of  this  brook  this  time,  and  the  invader  might  rot 
for  all  they  cared,  and  the  country  along  with  him 
— and  all  such  talk  as  that,  which  was  dismal  to  hear 
and  take  part  in,  in  such  smothered,  low  voices,  and 

267 


MARK     TWAIN 

such  a  grisly  dark  place  and  so  wet,  and  the  enemy, 
maybe,  coming  any  moment. 

The  keg  of  powder  was  lost,  and  the  guns,  too; 
so  the  growling  and  complaining  continued  straight 
along  while  the  brigade  pawed  around  the  pasty 
hillside  and  slopped  around  in  the  brook  hunting  for 
these  things;  consequently  we  lost  considerable  time 
at  this;  and  then  we  heard  a  sound,  and  held  our 
breath  and  listened,  and  it  seemed  to  be  the  enemy 
coming,  though  it  could  have  been  a  cow,  for  it  had 
a  cough  like  a  cow;  but  we  did  not  wait,  but  left  a 
couple  of  guns  behind  and  struck  out  for  Mason's 
again  as  briskly  as  we  could  scramble  along  in  the 
dark.  But  we  got  lost  presently  among  the  rugged 
little  ravines,  and  wasted  a  deal  of  time  finding  the 
way  again,  so  it  was  after  nine  when  we  reached 
Mason's  stile  at  last ;  and  then  before  we  could  open 
our  mouths  to  give  the  coun  ersign  several  dogs 
came  bound  ng  over  the  fence,  with  great  riot  and 
noise,  and  each  of  them  took  a  soldier  by  the  slack 
of  his  trousers  and  began  to  back  away  with  him. 
We  could  not  shoot  the  dogs  without  endangering 
the  persons  they  were  attached  to;  so  we  had  to 
look  on  helpless  at  what  was  perhaps  the  most 
mortifying  spectacle  of  the  Civil  War.  There  was 
light  enough,  and  to  spare,  for  the  Masons  had  now 
run  out  on  the  porch  with  candles  in  their  hands. 
The  old  man  and  his  son  came  and  undid  the  dogs 
without  difficulty,  all  but  Bowers's;  but  they  couldn't 
undo  his  dog,  they  didn't  know  his  combination ;  he 
was  of  the  bull  kind,  and  seemed  to  be  set  with  a 
Yale  time-lock;  but  they  got  him  loose  at  last  with 

268 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

some  scalding  water,  of  which  Bowers  got  his  share 
and  returned  thanks.  Peterson  Dunlap  afterward 
made  up  a  fine  name  for  this  engagement,  and  also 
for  the  night  march  which  preceded  it,  but  both  have 
long  ago  faded  out  of  my  memory. 

We  now  went  into  the  house,  and  they  began  to 
ask  us  a  world  of  questions,  whereby  it  presently 
came  out  that  we  did  not  know  anything  concerning 
who  or  what  we  were  running  from ;  so  the  old  gentle- 
man made  himself  very  frank,  and  said  we  were  a 
curious  breed  of  soldiers,  and  guessed  we  could  be 
depended  on  to  end  up  the  war  in  time,  because  no 
government  could  stand  the  expense  of  the  shoe- 
leather  we  should  cost  it  trying  to  follow  us  around. 
"Marion  Rangers!  good  name,  b'gosh!"  said  he. 
And  wanted  to  know  why  we  hadn't  had  a  picket- 
guard  at  the  place  where  the  road  entered  the  prairie, 
and  why  we  hadn't  sent  out  a  scouting  party  to 
spy  out  the  enemy  and  bring  us  an  account  of  his 
strength,  and  so  on,  before  jumping  up  and  stam- 
peding out  of  a  strong  position  upon  a  mere  vague 
rumor — and  so  on,  and  so  forth,  till  he  made  us 
all  feel  shabbier  than  the  dogs  had  done,  not  half 
so  enthusiastically  welcome.  So  we  went  to  bed 
shamed  and  low-spirited;  except  Stevens.  Soon 
Stevens  began  to  devise  a  garment  for  Bowers  which 
could  be  made  to  automatically  display  his  battle- 
scars  to  the  grateful,  or  conceal  them  from  the  en- 
vious, according  to  his  occasions;  but  Bowers  was  in 
no  humor  for  this,  so  there  was  a  fight,  and  when  it 
was  over  Stevens  had  some  battle-scars  of  his  own 
to  think  about. 

260 


MARK    TWAIN 

Then  we  got  a  little  sleep.  But  after  all  we  had 
gone  through,  our  activities  were  not  over  for  the 
night ;  for  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  heard 
a  shout  of  warning  from  down  the  lane,  accompanied 
by  a  chorus  from  all  the  dogs,  and  in  a  moment 
everybody  was  up  and  flying  around  to  find  out  what 
the  alarm  was  about.  The  alarmist  was  a  horseman 
who  gave  notice  that  a  detachment  of  Union  soldiers 
was  on  its  way  from  Hannibal  with  orders  to  capture 
and  hang  any  bands  like  ours  which  it  could  find, 
and  said  we  had  no  time  to  lose.  Farmer  Mason  was 
in  a  flurry  this  time  himself.  He  hurried  us  out  of 
the  house  with  all  haste,  and  sent  one  of  his  negroes 
with  us  to  show  us  where  to  hide  ourselves  and  our 
telltale  guns  among  the  ravines  half  a  mile  away. 
It  was  raining  heavily. 

We  struck  down  the  lane,  then  across  some  rocky 
pasture -land  which  offered  good  advantages  for 
stumbling;  consequently  we  were  down  in  the  mud 
most  of  the  time,  and  every  time  a  man  went  down 
he  blackguarded  the  war,  and  the  people  that  started 
it,  and  everybody  connected  with  it,  and  gave  him- 
self the  master  dose  of  all  for  being  so  foolish  as  to 
go  into  it.  At  last  we  reached  the  wooded  mouth 
of  a  ravine,  and  there  we  huddled  ourselves  under 
the  streaming  trees,  and  sent  the  negro  back  home. 
It  was  a  dismal  and  heart-breaking  time.  We  were 
like  to  be  drowned  with  the  rain,  deafened  with  the 
howling  wind  and  the  booming  thunder,  and  blinded 
by  the  lightning.  It  was,  indeed,  a  wild  night.  The 
drenching  we  were  getting  was  misery  enough,  but  a 
deeper  misery  still  was  the  reflection  that  the  halter 

370 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

might  end  us  before  we  were  a  day  older.  A  death 
of  this  shameful  sort  had  not  occurred  to  us  as  being 
among  the  possibilities  of  war.  It  took  the  romance 
all  out  of  the  campaign,  and  turned  our  dreams  of 
glory  into  a  repulsive  nightmare.  As  for  doubting 
that  so  barbarous  an  order  had  been  given,  not  one 
of  us  did  that. 

The  long  night  wore  itself  out  at  last,  and  then  the 
negro  came  to  us  with  the  news  that  the  alarm  had 
manifestly  been  a  false  one,  and  that  breakfast  would 
soon  be  ready.  Straightway  we  were  light-hearted 
again,  and  the  world  was  bright,  and  life  as  full  of 
hope  and  promise  as  ever — for  we  were  young  then. 
How  long  ago  that  was!  Twenty-four  years. 

The  mongrel  child  of  philology  named  the  night's 
refuge  Camp  Devastation,  and  no  soul  objected. 
The  Masons  gave  us  a  Missouri  country  breakfast, 
in  Missourian  abundance,  and  we  needed  it:  hot 
biscuits;  hot  "wheat  bread,"  prettily  criss-crossed  in 
a  lattice  pattern  on  top;  hot  corn-pone;  fried  chick- 
en; bacon,  coffee,  eggs,  milk,  buttermilk,  etc. ;  and  the 
world  may  be  confidently  challenged  to  furnish  the 
equal  of  such  a  breakfast,  as  it  is  cooked  in  the  South. 

We  stayed  several  days  at  Mason's;  and  after  all 
these  years  the  memory  of  the  dullness,  and  stillness, 
and  lifelessness  of  that  slumberous  farm-house  still 
oppresses  my  spirit  as  with  a  sense  of  the  presence  of 
death  and  mourning.  There  was  nothing  to  do, 
nothing  to  think  about ;  there  was  no  interest  in  life. 
The  male  part  of  the  household  were  away  in  the 
fields  all  day,  the  women  were  busy  and  out  of  our 
sight;  there  was  no  sound  but  the  plaintive  wailing 
18  271 


MARK    TWAIN 

of  a  spinning-wheel,  forever  moaning  out  from  some 
distant  room — the  most  lonesome  sound  in  nature, 
a  sound  steeped  and  sodden  with  homesickness  and 
the  emptiness  of  life.  The  family  went  to  bed  about 
dark  every  night,  and  as  we  were  not  invited  to  in- 
trude any  new  customs  we  naturally  followed  theirs. 
Those  nights  were  a  hundred  years  long  to  youths 
accustomed  to  being  up  till  twelve.  We  lay  awake 
and  miserable  till  that  hour  every  time,  and  grew 
old  and  decrepit  waiting  through  the  still  eter- 
nities for  the  clock-strikes.  This  was  no  place  for 
town  boys.  So  at  last  it  was  with  something  very 
like  joy  that  we  received  news  that  the  enemy  were 
on  our  track  again.  With  a  new  birth  of  the  old 
warrior  spirit  we  sprang  to  our  places  in  line  of 
battle  and  fell  back  on  Camp  Rails. 

Captain  Lyman  had  taken  a  hint  from  Mason's 
talk,  and  he  now  gave  orders  that  our  camp  should 
be  guarded  against  surprise  by  the  posting  of  pickets. 
I  was  ordered  to  place  a  picket  at  the  forks  of  the 
road  in  Hyde's  prairie.  Night  shut  down  black  and 
threatening.  I  told  Sergeant  Bowers  to  go  out  to 
that  place  and  stay  till  midnight;  and,  just  as  I  was 
expecting,  he  said  he  wouldn't  do  it.  I  tried  to  get 
others  to  go,  but  all  refused.  Some  excused  them- 
selves on  account  of  the  weather;  but  the  rest  were 
frank  enough  to  say  they  wouldn't  go  in  any  kind  of 
weather.  This  kind  of  thing  sounds  odd  now,  and 
impossible,  but  there  was  no  surprise  in  it  at  the 
time.  On  the  contrary,  it  seemed  a  perfectly  natural 
thing  to  do.  There  were  scores  of  little  camps  scat- 
tered over  Missouri  where  the  same  thing  was  hap- 

272 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

pening.  These  camps  were  composed  of  young  men 
who  had  been  born  and  reared  to  a  sturdy  inde- 
pendence, and  who  did  not  know  what  it  meant  to 
be  ordered  around  by  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,  whom 
they  had  known  familiarly  all  their  lives,  in  the 
village  or  on  the  farm.  It  is  quite  within  the  proba- 
bilities that  this  same  thing  was  happening  all  over 
the  South.  James  Redpath  recognized  the  justice 
of  this  assumption,  and  furnished  the  following 
instance  in  support  of  it.  During  a  short  stay  in 
East  Tennessee  he  was  in  a  citizen  colonel's  tent  one 
day  talking,  when  a  big  private  appeared  at  the  door, 
and,  without  salute  or  other  circumlocution,  said  to 
the  colonel: 

"Say,  Jim,  I'm  a-goin'  home  for  a  few  days." 

"What  for?" 

"Well,  I  hain't  b'en  there  for  a  right  smart  while, 
and  I'd  like  to  see  how  things  is  comin'  on." 

"How  long  are  you  going  to  be  gone?" 

"'Bout  two  weeks." 

"Well,  don't  be  gone  longer  than  that;  and  get 
back  sooner  if  you  can." 

That  was  all,  and  the  citizen  officer  resumed  his 
conversation  where  the  private  had  broken  it  off. 
This  was  in  the  first  months  of  the  war,  of  course. 
The  camps  in  our  part  of  Missouri  were  under 
Brigadier-General  Thomas  H.  Harris.  He  was  a 
townsman  of  ours,  a  first-rate  fellow,  and  well  liked; 
but  we  had  all  familiarly  known  him  as  the  sole 
and  modest-salaried  operator  in  our  telegraph-office, 
where  he  had  to  send  about  one  despatch  a  week  in 
ordinary  times,  and  two  when  there  was  a  rush  of 

273 


MARK    TWAIN 

business;  consequently,  when  he  appeared  in  our 
midst  one  day,  on  the  wing,  and  delivered  a  military 
command  of  some  sort,  in  a  large  military  fashion, 
nobody  was  surprised  at  the  response  which  he  got 
from  the  assembled  soldiery : 

"Oh,  now,  what  '11  you  take  to  don't,  Tom  Harris?" 
It  was  quite  the  natural  thing.  One  might  justly 
imagine  that  we  were  hopeless  material  for  war.  And 
so  we  seemed,  in  our  ignorant  state;  but  there  were 
those  among  us  who  afterward  learned  the  grim 
trade;  learned  to  obey  like  machines;  became  valu- 
able soldiers;  fought  all  through  the  war,  and  came 
out  at  the  end  with  excellent  records.  One  of  the 
very  boys  who  refused  to  go  out  on  picket  duty  that 
night,  and  called  me  an  ass  for  thinking  he  would 
expose  himself  to  danger  in  such  a  foolhardy  way, 
had  become  distinguished  for  intrepidity  before  he 
was  a  year  older. 

I  did  secure  my  picket  that  night — not  by  au- 
thority, but  by  diplomacy.  I  got  Bowers  to  go  by 
agreeing  to  exchange  ranks  with  him  for  the  time 
being,  and  go  along  and  stand  the  watch  with  him 
as  his  subordinate.  We  stayed  out  there  a  couple 
of  dreary  hours  in  the  pitchy  darkness  and  the  rain, 
with  nothing  to  modify  the  dreariness  but  Bowers's 
monotonous  growlings  at  the  war  and  the  weather; 
then  we  began  to  nod,  and  presently  found  it  next 
tto  impossible  to  stay  in  the  saddle;  so  we  gave  up 
the  tedious  job,  and  went  back  to  the  camp  without 
waiting  for  the  relief  guard.  We  rode  into  camp 
without  interruption  or  objection  from  anybody,  and 
the  enemy  could  have  done  the  same,  for  there  were 

274 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

no  sentries.  Everybody  was  asleep;  at  midnight 
there  was  nobody  to  send  out  another  picket,  so  none 
was  sent.  We  never  tried  to  establish  a  watch  at 
night  again,  as  far  as  I  remember,  but  we  generally 
kept  a  picket  out  in  the  daytime. 

In  that  camp  the  whole  command  slept  on  the 
corn  in  the  big  corn-crib;  and  there  was  usually  a 
general  row  before  morning,  for  the  place  was  full  of 
rats,  and  they  would  scramble  over  the  boys'  bodies 
and  faces,  annoying  and  irritating  everybody;  and 
now  and  then  they  would  bite  some  one's  toe,  and  the 
person  who  owned  the  toe  would  start  up  and 
magnify  his  English  and  begin  to  throw  corn  in  the 
dark.  The  ears  were  half  as  heavy  as  bricks,  and 
when  they  struck  they  hurt.  The  persons  struck 
would  respond,  and  inside  of  five  minutes  every  man 
would  be  locked  in  a  death-grip  with  his  neighbor. 
There  was  a  grievous  deal  of  blood  shed  in  the  corn- 
crib,  but  this  was  all  that  was  spilt  while  I  was  in 
the  war.  No,  that  is  not  quite  true.  But  for  one 
circumstance  it  would  have  been  all.  I  will  come  to 
that  now. 

Our  scares  were  frequent.  Every  few  days  rumors 
would  come  that  the  enemy  were  approaching.  In 
these  cases  we  always  fell  back  on  some  other  camp 
of  ours;  we  never  stayed  where  we  were.  But  the 
rumors  always  turned  out  to  be  false ;  so  at  last  even 
we  began  to  grow  indifferent  to  them.  One  night  a 
negro  was  sent  to  our  corn-crib  with  the  same  old 
warning:  the  enemy  was  hovering  in  our  neighbor- 
hood. We  all  said  let  him  hover.  We  resolved  to 
stay  still  and  be  comfortable.  It  was  a  fine  warlike 

275 


MARK    TWAIN 

resolution,  and  no  doubt  we  all  felt  the  stir  of  it  in 
our  veins — for  a  moment.  We  had  been  having  a 
very  jolly  time,  that  was  full  of  horse-play  and  school- 
boy hilarity;  but  that  cooled  down  now,  and  pres- 
ently the  fast- waning  fire  of  forced  jokes  and  forced 
laughs  died  out  altogether,  and  the  company  became 
silent.  Silent  and  nervous.  And  soon  uneasy — 
worried — apprehensive.  We  had  said  we  would  stay, 
and  we  were  committed.  We  could  have  been  per- 
suaded to  go,  but  there  was  nobody  brave  enough  to 
suggest  it.  An  almost  noiseless  movement  pres- 
ently began  in  the  dark  by  a  general  but  unvoiced 
impulse.  When  the  movement  was  completed  each 
man  knew  that  he  was  not  the  only  person  who  had 
crept  to  the  front  wall  and  had  his  eye  at  a  crack 
between  the  logs.  No,  we  were  all  there;  all  there 
with  our  hearts  in  our  throats,  and  staring  out 
toward  the  sugar-troughs  where  the  forest  footpath 
came  through.  It  was  late,  and  there  was  a  deep 
woodsy  stillness  everywhere.  There  was  a  veiled 
moonlight,  which  was  only  just  strong  enough  to 
enable  us  to  mark  the  general  shape  of  objects. 
Presently  a  muffled  sound  caught  our  ears,  and  we 
recognized  it  as  the  hoof-beats  of  a  horse  or  horses. 
And  right  away  a  figure  appeared  in  the  forest  path ; 
it  could  have  been  made  of  smoke,  its  mass  had  so 
little  sharpness  of  outline.  It  was  a  man  on  horse- 
back, and  it  seemed  to  me  that  there  were  others 
behind  him.  I  got  hold  of  a  gun  in  the  dark,  and 
pushed  it  through  a  crack  between  the  logs,  hardly 
knowing  what  I  was  doing,  I  was  so  dazed  with 
fright.  Somebody  said  "Fire!"  I  pulled  the  trigger. 

276 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

I  seemed  to  see  a  hundred  flashes  and  hear  a  hundred 
reports;  then  I  saw  the  man  fall  down  out  of  the 
saddle.  My  first  feeling  was  of  surprised  gratifica- 
tion; my  first  impulse  was  an  apprentice-sportsman's 
impulse  to  run  and  pick  up  his  game.  Somebody 
said,  hardly  audibly,  "Good — we've  got  him! — wait 
for  the  rest."  But  the  rest  did  not  come.  We 
waited — listened — still  no  more  came.  There  was 
not  a  sound,  not  the  whisper  of  a  leaf;  just  perfect 
stillness;  an  uncanny  kind  of  stillness,  which  was  all 
the  more  uncanny  on  account  of  the  damp,  earthy, 
late-night  smells  now  rising  and  pervading  it.  Then, 
wondering,  we  crept  stealthily  out,  and  approached 
the  man.  When  we  got  to  him  the  moon  revealed 
him  distinctly.  He  was  lying  on  his  back,  with  his 
arms  abroad;  his  mouth  was  open  and  his  chest 
heaving  with  long  gasps,  and  his  white  shirt-front 
was  all  splashed  with  blood.  The  thought  shot 
through  me  that  I  was  a  murderer;  that  I  had  killed 
a  man — a  man  who  had  never  done  me  any  harm. 
That  was  the  coldest  sensation  that  ever  went 
through  my  marrow.  I  was  down  by  him  in  a  mo- 
ment, helplessly  stroking  his  forehead;  and  I  would 
have  given  anything  then — my  own  life  freely — to 
make  him  again  what  he  had  been  five  minutes 
before.  And  all  the  boys  seemed  to  be  feeling  in  the 
same  way;  they  hung  over  him,  full  of  pitying  inter- 
est, and  tried  all  they  could  to  help  him,  and  said 
all  sorts  of  regretful  things.  They  had  forgotten  all 
about  the  enemy;  they  thought  only  of  this  one 
forlorn  unit  of  the  foe.  Once  my  imagination  per- 
suaded me  that  the  dying  man  gave  me  a  reproachful 

277 


MARK     TWAIN 

look  out  of  his  shadowy  eyes,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  could  rather  he  had  stabbed  me  than  done 
that.  He  muttered  and  mumbled  like  a  dreamer 
in  his  sleep  about  his  wife  and  his  child ;  and  I  thought 
with  a  new  despair,  "This  thing  that  I  have  done 
does  not  end  with  him ;  it  falls  upon  them  too,  and  they 
never  did  me  any  harm,  any  more  than  he." 

In  a  little  while  the  man  was  dead.  He  was  killed 
in  war;  killed  in  fair  and  legitimate  war;  killed  in 
battle,  as  you  may  say;  and  yet  he  was  as  sincerely 
mourned  by  the  opposing  force  as  if  he  had  been 
their  brother.  The  boys  stood  there  a  half-hour 
sorrowing  over  him,  and  recalling  the  details  of  the 
tragedy,  and  wondering  who  he  might  be,  and  if  he 
were  a  spy,  and  saying  that  if  it  were  to  do  over 
again  they  would  not  hurt  him  unless  he  attacked 
them  first.  It  soon  came  out  that  mine  was  not  the 
only  shot  fired;  there  were  five  others — a  division  of 
the  guilt  which  was  a  great  relief  to  me,  since  it  in 
some  degree  lightened  and  diminished  the  burden  I 
was  carrying.  There  were  six  shots  fired  at  once; 
but  I  was  not  in  my  right  mind  at  the  time,  and 
my  heated  imagination  had  magnified  my  one  shot 
into  a  volley. 

The  man  was  not  in  uniform,  and  was  not  armed. 
He  was  a  stranger  in  the  country;  that  was  all  we 
ever  found  out  about  him.  The  thought  of  him  got 
to  preying  upon  me  every  night;  I  could  not  get  rid 
of  it.  I  could  not  drive  it  away,  the  taking  of  that 
unoffending  life  seemed  such  a  wanton  thing.  And 
it  seemed  an  epitome  of  war;  that  all  war  must  be 
just  that — the  killing  of  strangers  against  whom  you 

278 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

feel  no  personal  animosity;  strangers  whom,  in  other 
circumstances,  you  would  help  if  you  found  them  in 
trouble,  and  who  would  help  you  if  you  needed  it. 
My  campaign  was  spoiled.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
I  was  not  rightly  equipped  for  this  awful  business; 
that  war  was  intended  for  men,  and  I  for  a  child's 
nurse.  I  resolved  to  retire  from  this  avocation  of 
sham  soldiership  while  I  could  save  some  remnant  of 
my  self-respect.  These  morbid  thoughts  clung  to 
me  against  reason;  for  at  bottom  I  did  not  believe 
I  had  touched  that  man.  The  law  of  probabilities 
decreed  me  guiltless  of  his  blood ;  for  in  all  my  small 
experience  with  guns  I  had  never  hit  anything  I  had 
tried  to  hit,  and  I  knew  I  had  done  my  best  to  hit 
him.  Yet  there  was  no  solace  in  the  thought. 
Against  a  diseased  imagination  demonstration  goes 
for  nothing. 

The  rest  of  my  war  experience  was  of  a  piece  with 
what  I  have  already  told  of  it.  We  kept  monoto- 
nously falling  back  upon  one  camp  or  another,  and 
eating  up  the  farmers  and  their  families.  They 
ought  to  have  shot  us;  on  the  contrary,  they  were 
as  hospitably  kind  and  courteous  to  us  as  if  we  had 
deserved  it.  In  one  of  these  camps  we  found  Ab 
Grimes,  an  Upper  Mississippi  pilot,  who  afterward 
became  famous  as  a  dare-devil  rebel  spy,  whose 
career  bristled  with  desperate  adventures.  The  look 
and  style  of  his  comrades  suggested  that  they  had 
not  come  into  the  war  to  play,  and  their  deeds  made 
good  the  conjecture  later.  They  were  fine  horsemen 
and  good  revolver  shots;  but  their  favorite  arm  was 
the  lasso.  Each  had  one  at  his  pommel,  and  could 

279 


MARK     TWAIN 

snatch  a  man  out  of  the  saddle  with  it  every  time, 
on  a  full  gallop,  at  any  reasonable  distance. 

In  another  camp  the  chief  was  a  fierce  and  profane 
old  blacksmith  of  sixty,  and  he  had  furnished  his 
twenty  recruits  with  gigantic  home-made  bowie- 
knives,  to  be  swung  with  two  hands,  like  the  machetes 
of  the  Isthmus.  It  was  a  grisly  spectacle  to  see  that 
earnest  band  practising  their  murderous  cuts  and 
slashes  under  the  eye  of  that  remorseless  old  fanatic. 

The  last  camp  which  we  fell  back  upon  was  in  a 
hollow  near  the  village  of  Florida,  where  I  was  born 
— in  Monroe  County.  Here  we  were  warned  one 
day  that  a  Union  colonel  was  sweeping  down  on  us 
with  a  whole  regiment  at  his  heel.  This  looked 
decidedly  serious.  Our  boys  went  apart  and  con- 
sulted; then  we  went  back  and  told  the  other  com- 
panies present  that  the  war  was  a  disappointment  to 
us,  and  we  were  going  to  disband.  They  were  getting 
ready  themselves  to  fall  back  on  some  place  or  other, 
and  we  were  only  waiting  for  General  Tom  Harris, 
who  was  expected  to  arrive  at  any  moment;  so  they 
tried  to  persuade  us  to  wait  a  little  while,  but  the 
majority  of  us  said  no,  we  were  accustomed  to  falling 
back,  and  didn't  need  any  of  Tom  Harris's  help;  we 
could  get  along  perfectly  well  without  him — and  save 
time,  too.  So  about  half  of  our  fifteen,  including 
myself,  mounted  and  left  on  the  instant;  the  others 
yielded  to  persuasion  and  stayed — stayed  through 
the  war. 

An  hour  later  we  met  General  Harris  on  the  road, 
with  two  or  three  people  in  his  company — his  staff, 
probably,  but  we  could  not  tell;  none  of  them  were 

280 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED 

in  uniform;  uniforms  had  not  come  into  vogue 
among  us  yet.  Harris  ordered  us  back;  but  we  told 
him  there  was  a  Union  colonel  coming  with  a  whole 
regiment  in  his  wake,  and  it  looked  as  if  there  was 
going  to  be  a  disturbance;  so  we  had  concluded  to 
go  home.  He  raged  a  little,  but  it  was  of  no  use;  our 
minds  were  made  up.  We  had  done  our  share;  had 
killed  one  man,  exterminated  one  army,  such  as  it 
was;  let  him  go  and  kill  the  rest,  and  that  would 
end  the  war.  I  did  not  see  that  brisk  young  general 
again  until  last  year ;  then  he  was  wearing  white  hair 
and  whiskers. 

In  time  I  came  to  know  that  Union  coionel  whose 
coming  frightened  me  out  of  the  war  and  crippled 
the  Southern  cause  to  that  extent — General  Grant. 
I  came  within  a  few  hours  of  seeing  him  when  he 
was  as  unknown  as  I  was  myself;  at  a  time  when 
anybody  could  have  said,  "Grant? — Ulysses  S. 
Grant?  I  do  not  remember  hearing  the  name  be- 
fore." It  seems  difficult  to  realize  that  there  was 
once  a  time  when  such  a  remark  could  be  rationally 
made;  but  there  was,  and  I  was  within  a  few  miles 
of  the  place  and  the  occasion,  too,  though  proceeding 
in  the  other  direction. 

The  thoughtful  will  not  throw  this  war  paper  of 
mine  lightly  aside  as  being  valueless.  It  has  this 
value:  it  is  a  not  unfair  picture  of  what  went  on  in 
many  and  many  a  militia  camp  in  the  first  months 
of  the  rebellion,  when  the  green  recruits  were  without 
discipline,  without  the  steadying  and  heartening  in- 
fluence of  trained  leaders;  when  all  their  circum- 
stances were  new  and  strange,  and  charged  with 

281 


MARK     TWAIN 

exaggerated  terrors,  and  before  the  invaluable  ex- 
perience of  actual  collision  in  the  field  had  turned 
them  from  rabbits  into  soldiers.  If  this  side  of  the 
picture  of  that  early  day  has  not  before  been  put 
into  history,  then  history  has  been  to  that  degree 
incomplete,  for  it  had  and  has  its  rightful  place  there. 
There  was  more  Bull  Run  material  scattered  through 
the  early  camps  of  this  country  than  exhibited  itself 
at  Bull  Run.  And  yet  it  learned  its  trade  presently, 
and  helped  to  fight  the  great  battles  later.  I  could 
have  become  a  soldier  myself  if  I  had  waited.  I  had 
got  part  of  it  learned;  I  knew  more  about  retreating 
than  the  man  that  invented  retreating. 


LUCK1 

IT  was  at  a  banquet  in  London  in  honor  of  one  of 
the  two  or  three  conspicuously  illustrious  English 
military  names  of  this  generation.  For  reasons  which 
will  presently  appear,  I  will  withhold  his  real  name 
and  titles  and  call  him  Lieutenant-General  Lord  Ar- 
thur Scoresby,  Y.C.,  K.C.B.,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.  What 
a  fascination  there  is  in  a  renowned  name!  There 
sat  the  man,  in  actual  flesh,  whom  I  had  heard  of 
so  many  thousands  of  times  since  that  day,  thirty 
years  before,  when  his  name  shot  suddenly  to  the 
zenith  from  a  Crimean  battlefield,  to  remain  forever 
celebrated.  It  was  food  and  drink  to  me  to  look,  and 
look,  and  look  at  that  demi-god;  scanning,  searching, 
noting:  the  quietness,  the  reserve,  the  noble  gravity 
of  his  countenance;  the  simple  honesty  that  expressed 
itself  all  over  him;  the  sweet  unconsciousness  of  his 
greatness — unconsciousness  of  the  hundreds  of  ad- 
miring eyes  fastened  upon  him,  unconsciousness  of 
the  deep,  loving,  sincere  worship  welling  out  of  the 
breasts  of  those  people  and  flowing  toward  him. 

The  clergyman  at  my  left  was  an  old  acquaintance 
of  mine — clergyman  now,  but  had  spent  the  first 
half  of  his  life  in  the  camp  and  field  and  as  an  in- 

1  This  is  not  a  fancy  sketch.  I  got  it  from  a  clergyman  who  was 
an  instructor  at  Woolwich  forty  years  ago,  and  who  vouched  for 

its  truth.— M.  T. 

283 


MARK     TWAIN 

structor  in  the  military  school  at  Woolwich.  Just 
at  the  moment  I  have  been  talking  about  a  veiled 
and  singular  light  glimmered  in  his  eyes  and  he 
leaned  down  and  muttered  confidentially  to  me — 
indicating  the  hero  of  the  banquet  with  a  gesture: 

"Privately — he's  an  absolute  fool." 

This  verdict  was  a  great  surprise  to  me.  If  its 
subject  had  been  Napoleon,  or  Socrates,  or  Solomon, 
my  astonishment  could  not  have  been  greater.  Two 
things  I  was  well  aware  of:  that  the  Reverend  was  a 
man  of  strict  veracity  and  that  his  judgment  of  men 
was  good.  Therefore  I  knew,  beyond  doubt  or  ques- 
tion, that  the  world  was  mistaken  about  this  hero: 
he  was  a  fool.  So  I  meant  to  find  out,  at  a  con- 
venient moment,  how  the  Reverend,  all  solitary  and 
alone,  had  discovered  the  secret. 

Some  days  later  the  opportunity  came,  and  this 
is  what  the  Reverend  told  me: 

About  forty  years  ago  I  was  an  instructor  in  the 
military  academy  at  Woolwich.  I  was  present  in 
one  of  the  sections  when  young  Scoresby  underwent 
his  preliminary  examination.  I  was  touched  to  the 
quick  with  pity,  for  the  rest  of  the  class  answered  up 
brightly  and  handsomely,  while  he — why,  dear  me, 
he  didn't  know  anything,  so  to  speak.  He  was  evi- 
dently good,  and  sweet,  and  lovable,  and  guileless; 
and  so  it  was  exceedingly  painful  to  see  him  stand 
there,  as  serene  as  a  graven  image,  and  deliver  him- 
self of  answers  which  were  veritably  miraculous  for 
stupidity  and  ignorance.  All  the  compassion  in  me 
was  aroused  in  his  behalf.  I  said  to  myself,  when  he 

284 


LUCK 

comes  to  be  examined  again  he  will  be  flung  over,  of 
course;  so  it  will  be  simply  a  harmless  act  of  charity 
to  ease  his  fall  as  much  as  I  can.  I  took  him  aside 
and  found  that  he  knew  a  little  of  Caesar's  history; 
and  as  he  didn't  know  anything  else,  I  went  to  work 
and  drilled  him  like  a  galley-slave  on  a  certain  line 
of  stock  questions  concerning  Caesar  which  I  knew 
would  be  used.  If  you'll  believe  me,  he  went 
through  with  flying  colors  on  examination  day !  He 
went  through  on  that  purely  superficial  "cram,"  and 
got  compliments  too,  while  others,  who  knew  a 
thousand  times  more  than  he,  got  plucked.  By 
some  strangely  lucky  accident — an  accident  not  like- 
ly to  happen  twice  in  a  century — he  was  asked  no 
question  outside  of  the  narrow  limits  of  his  drill. 

It  was  stupefying.  Well,  all  through  his  course  I 
stood  by  him,  with  something  of  the  sentiment  which 
a  mother  feels  for  a  crippled  child;  and  he  always 
saved  himself — just  by  miracle,  apparently. 

Now,  of  course,  the  thing  that  would  expose  him 
and  kill  him  at  last  was  mathematics.  I  resolved  to 
make  his  death  as  easy  as  I  could;  so  I  drilled  him 
and  crammed  him,  and  crammed  him  and  drilled  him, 
just  on  the  line  of  questions  which  the  examiners 
would  be  most  likely  to  use,  and  then  launched  him 
on  his  fate.  Well,  sir,  try  to  conceive  of  the  re- 
sult: to  my  consternation,  he  took  the  first  prize! 
And  with  it  he  got  a  perfect  ovation  in  the  way  of 
compliments. 

Sleep  ?  There  was  no  more  sleep  for  me  for  a  week. 
My  conscience  tortured  me  day  and  night.  What 
I  had  done  I  had  done  purely  through  charity,  and 

285  " 


MARK    TWAIN 

only  to  ease  the  poor  youth's  fall.  I  never  had 
dreamed  of  any  such  preposterous  results  as  the  thing 
that  had  happened.  I  felt  as  guilty  and  miserable 
as  Frankenstein.  Here  was  a  wooden-head  whom  I 
had  put  in  the  way  of  glittering  promotions  and 
prodigious  responsibilities,  and  but  one  thing  could 
happen:  he  and  his  responsibilities  would  all  go  to 
ruin  together  at  the  first  opportunity. 

The  Crimean  War  had  just  broken  out.  Of  course 
there  had  to  be  a  war,  I  said  to  myself.  We  couldn't 
have  peace  and  give  this  donkey  a  chance  to  die 
before  he  is  found  out.  I  waited  for  the  earthquake. 
It  came.  And  it  made  me  reel  when  it  did  come. 
He  was  actually  gazetted  to  a  captaincy  in  a  march- 
ing regiment !  Better  men  grow  old  and  gray  in  the 
service  before  they  climb  to  a  sublimity  like  that. 
And  who  could  ever  have  foreseen  that  they  would 
go  and  put  such  a  load  of  responsibility  on  such 
green  and  inadequate  shoulders  ?  I  could  just  barely 
have  stood  it  if  they  had  made  him  a  cornet;  but  a 
captain — think  of  it!  I  thought  my  hair  would 
turn  white. 

Consider  what  I  did — I  who  so  loved  repose  and 
inaction.  I  said  to  myself,  I  am  responsible  to  the 
country  for  this,  and  I  must  go  along  with  him  and 
protect  the  country  against  him  as  far  as  I  can. 
So  I  took  my  poor  little  capital  that  I  had  saved  up 
through  years  of  work  and  grinding  economy,  and 
went  with  a  sigh  and  bought  a  cornetcy  in  his 
regiment,  and  away  we  went  to  the  field. 

And  there — oh,  dear,  it  was  awful.  Blunders? — 
why,  he  never  did  anything  but  blunder.  But,  you 

286 


LUCK 

see,  nobody  was  in  the  fellow's  secret.  Everybody 
had  him  focused  wrong,  and  necessarily  misinter- 
preted his  performance  every  time.  Consequently 
they  took  his  idiotic  blunders  for  inspirations  of 
genius.  They  did,  honestly!  His  mildest  blunders 
were  enough  to  make  a  man  in  his  right  mind  cry; 
and  they  did  make  me  cry — and  rage  and  rave,  too, 
privately.  And  the  thing  that  kept  me  always  in  a 
sweat  of  apprehension  was  the  fact  that  every  fresh 
blunder  he  made  increased  the  luster  of  his  repu- 
tation! I  kept  saying  to  myself,  he'll  get  so  high 
that  when  discovery  does  finally  come  it  will  be  like 
the  sun  falling  out  of  the  sky. 

He  went  right  along  up,  from  grade  to  grade,  over 
the  dead  bodies  of  his  superiors,  until  at  last,  in  the 

hottest  moment  of  the  battle  of  down  went 

our  colonel,  and  my  heart  jumped  into  my  mouth, 
for  Scoresby  was  next  in  rank!  Now  for  it,  said  I; 
we'll  all  land  in  Sheol  in  ten  minutes,  sure. 

The  battle  was  awfully  hot ;  the  allies  were  steadily 
giving  way  all  over  the  field.  Our  regiment  occupied 
a  position  that  was  vital;  a  blunder  now  must  be 
destruction.  At  this  crucial  moment,  what  does  this 
immortal  fool  do  but  detach  the  regiment  from 
its  place  and  order  a  charge  over  a  neighboring 
hill  where  there  wasn't  a  suggestion  of  an  enemy! 
"There  you  go!"  I  said  to  myself;  "this  is  the  end 
at  last." 

And  away  we  did  go,  and  were  over  the  shoulder 
of  the  hill  before  the  insane  movement  could  be  dis- 
covered and  stopped.  And  what  did  we  find?  An 
entire  and  unsuspected  Russian  army  in  reserve! 
19  287 


MARK    TWAIN 

And  what  happened?  We  were  eaten  up?  That  is 
necessarily  what  would  have  happened  in  ninety-nine 
cases  out  of  a  hundred.  But  no;  those  Russians  ar- 
gued that  no  single  regiment  would  come  browsing 
around  there  at  such  a  time.  It  must  be  the  entire 
English  army,  and  that  the  sly  Russian  game  was 
detected  and  blocked;  so  they  turned  tail,  and  away 
they  went,  pell-mell,  over  the  hill  and  down  into  the 
field,  in  wild  confusion,  and  we  after  them;  they 
themselves  broke  the  solid  Russian  center  in  the 
field,  and  tore  through,  and  in  no  time  there  was  the 
most  tremendous  rout  you  ever  saw,  and  the  defeat 
of  the  allies  was  turned  into  a  sweeping  and  splendid 
victory!  Marshal  Canrobert  looked  on,  dizzy  with 
astonishment,  admiration,  and  delight ;  and  sent  right 
off  for  Scoresby,  and  hugged  him,  and  decorated  him 
on  the  field  in  presence  of  all  the  armies ! 

And  what  was  Scoresby 's  blunder  that  time? 
Merely  the  mistaking  his  right  hand  for  his  left — 
that  was  all.  An  order  had  come  to  him  to  fall  back 
and  support  our  right;  and,  instead,  he  fell  forward 
and  went  over  the  hill  to  the  left.  But  the  name  he 
won  that  day  as  a  marvelous  military  genius  filled 
the  world  with  his  glory,  and  that  glory  will  never 
fade  while  history  books  last. 

He  is  just  as  good  and  sweet  and  lovable  and  un- 
pretending as  a  man  can  be,  but  he  doesn't  know 
enough  to  come  in  when  it  rains.  Now  that  is 
absolutely  true.  He  is  the  supremest  ass  in  the 
universe ;  and  until  half  an  hour  ago  nobody  knew  it 
but  himself  and  me.  He  has  been  pursued,  day  by 
day  and  year  by  year,  by  a  most  phenomenal  and 

288 


LUCK 

astonishing  luckiness.  He  has  been  a  shining  soldier 
in  all  our  wars  for  a  generation;  he  has  littered  his 
whole  military  life  with  blunders,  and  yet  has  never 
committed  one  that  didn't  make  him  a  knight  or  a 
baronet  or  a  lord  or  something.  Look  at  his  breast; 
why,  he  is  just  clothed  in  domestic  and  foreign 
decorations.  Well,  sir,  every  one  of  them  is  the 
record  of  some  shouting  stupidity  or  other;  and, 
taken  together,  they  are  proof  that  the  very  best 
thing  in  all  this  world  that  can  befall  a  man  is  to  be 
born  lucky.  I  say  again,  as  I  said  at  the  banquet, 
Scoresby's  an  absolute  fool. 


T 


A  CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

HIS  is  the  story  which  the  Major  told  me,  as 
nearly  as  I  can  recall  it : 


In  the  winter  of  1862-63  I  was  commandant  of 
Fort  Trumbull,  at  New  London,  Conn.  Maybe  our 
life  there  was  not  so  brisk  as  life  at  "the  front " ;  still 
it  was  brisk  enough,  in  its  way — one's  brains  didn't 
cake  together  there  for  lack  of  something  to  keep 
them  stirring.  For  one  thing,  all  the  Northern 
atmosphere  at  that  time  was  thick  with  mysterious 
rumors — rumors  to  the  effect  that  rebel  spies  were 
flitting  everywhere,  and  getting  ready  to  blow  up 
our  Northern  forts,  burn  our  hotels,  send  infected 
clothing  into  our  towns,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
You  remember  it.  All  this  had  a  tendency  to  keep 
us  awake,  and  knock  the  traditional  dullness  out  of 
garrison  life.  Besides,  ours  was  a  recruiting  station 
— which  is  the  same  as  saying  we  hadn't  any  time  to 
waste  in  dozing,  or  dreaming,  or  fooling  around. 
Why,  with  all  our  watchfulness,  fifty  per  cent,  of  a 
day's  recruits  would  leak  out  of  our  hands  and  give 
us  the  slip  the  same  night.  The  bounties  were  so 
prodigious  that  a  recruit  could  pay  a  sentinel  three 
or  four  hundred  dollars  to  let  him  escape,  and  still 
have  enough  of  his  bounty-money  left  to  constitute 

290 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

a  fortune  for  a  poor  man.  Yes,  as  I  said  before, 
our  life  was  not  drowsy. 

Well,  one  day  I  was  in  my  quarters  alone,  doing 
some  writing,  when  a  pale  and  ragged  lad  of  fourteen 
or  fifteen  entered,  made  a  neat  bow,  and  said: 

"I  believe  recruits  are  received  here?" 

"Yes." 

"Will  you  please  enlist  me,  sir?" 

' '  Dear  me,  no !  You  are  too  young,  my  boy,  and 
too  small." 

A  disappointed  look  came  into  his  face,  and 
quickly  deepened  into  an  expression  of  despondency. 
He  turned  slowly  away,  as  if  to  go;  hesitated,  then 
faced  me  again,  and  said,  in  a  tone  that  went  to  my 
heart: 

"I  have  no  home,  and  not  a  friend  in  the  world. 
If  you  could  only  enlist  me!" 

But  of  course  the  thing  was  out  of  the  question, 
and  I  said  so  as  gently  as  I  could.  Then  I  told  him 
to  sit  down  by  the  stove  and  warm  himself,  and 
added : 

' '  You  shall  have  something  to  eat,  presently.  You 
are  hungry?" 

He  did  not  answer;  he  did  not  need  to;  the  grati- 
tude in  his  big,  soft  eyes  was  more  eloquent  than 
any  words  could  have  been.  He  sat  down  by  the 
stove,  and  I  went  on  writing.  Occasionally  I  took 
a  furtive  glance  at  him.  I  noticed  that  his  clothes 
and  shoes,  although  soiled  and  damaged,  were  of 
good  style  and  material.  This  fact  was  suggestive. 
To  it  I  added  the  facts  that  his  voice  was  low  and 
musical;  his  eyes  deep  and  melancholy;  his  carriage 

291 


MARK    TWAIN 

and  address  gentlemanly;  evidently  the  poor  chap 
was  in  trouble.  As  a  result,  I  was  interested. 

However,  I  became  absorbed  in  my  work  by  and 
by,  and  forgot  all  about  the  boy.  I  don't  know  how 
long  this  lasted;  but  at  length  I  happened  to  look 
up.  The  boy's  back  was  toward  me,  but  his  face 
was  turned  in  such  a  way  that  I  could  see  one  of 
his  cheeks — and  down  that  cheek  a  rill  of  noiseless 
tears  was  flowing. 

"God  bless  my  soul!"  I  said  to  myself;  "I  forgot 
the  poor  rat  was  starving."  Then  I  made  amends 
for  my  brutality  by  saying  to  him,  "Come  along, 
my  lad;  you  shall  dine  with  me;  I  am  alone  to- 
day." 

He  gave  me  another  of  those  grateful  looks,  and 
a  happy  light  broke  in  his  face.  At  the  table  he 
stood  with  his  hand  on  his  chair-back  until  I  was 
seated,  then  seated  himself.  I  took  up  my  knife  and 
fork  and — well,  I  simply  held  them,  and  kept  still; 
for  the  boy  had  inclined  his  head  and  was  saying 
a  silent  grace.  A  thousand  hallowed  memories  of 
home  and  my  childhood  poured  in  upon  me,  and 
I  sighed  to  think  how  far  I  had  drifted  from  religion 
and  its  balm  for  hurt  minds,  its  comfort  and  solace 
and  support. 

As  our  meal  progressed  I  observed  that  young 
Wicklow — Robert  Wicklow  was  his  full  name — knew 
what  to  do  with  his  napkin;  and — well,  in  a  word,  I 
observed  that  he  was  a  boy  of  good  breeding;  never 
mind  the  details.  He  had  a  simple  frankness,  too, 
which  won  upon  me.  We  talked  mainly  about  him- 
self, and  I  had  no  difficulty  in  getting  his  history  out 

292 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

of  him.  When  he  spoke  of  his  having  been  born  and 
reared  in  Louisiana,  I  warmed  to  him  decidedly,  for 
I  had  spent  some  time  down  there.  I  knew  all  the 
"coast"  region  of  the  Mississippi,  and  loved  it,  and 
had  not  been  long  enough  away  from  it  for  my  in- 
terest in  it  to  begin  to  pale.  The  very  names  that 
fell  from  his  lips  sounded  good  to  me — so  good  that 
I  steered  the  talk  in  directions  that  would  bring  them 
out:  Baton  Rouge,  Plaquemine,  Donaldsonville, 
Sixty-mile  Point,  Bonnet-Carre,  the  Stock  Landing, 
Carrollton,  the  Steamship  Landing,  the  Steamboat 
Landing,  New  Orleans,  Tchoupitoulas  Street,  the  Es- 
planade, the  Rue  des  Bons  Enfants,  the  St.  Charles 
Hotel,  the  Tivoli  Circle,  the  Shell  Road,  Lake 
Pontchartrain ;  and  it  was  particularly  delightful  to 
me  to  hear  once  more  of  the  R.  E.  Lee,  the  Natchez, 
the  Eclipse,  the  General  Quitman,  the  Duncan  F. 
Kenner,  and  other  old  familiar  steamboats.  It  was 
almost  as  good  as  being  back  there,  these  names 
so  vividly  reproduced  in  my  mind  the  look  of  the 
things  they  stood  for.  Briefly,  this  was  little  Wick- 
low's  history: 

When  the  war  broke  out,  he  and  his  invalid  aunt 
and  his  father  were  living  near  Baton  Rouge,  on  a 
great  and  rich  plantation  which  had  been  in  the 
family  for  fifty  years.  The  father  was  a  Union  man. 
He  was  persecuted  in  all  sorts  of  ways,  but  clung  to 
his  principles.  At  last  one  night  masked  men  burned 
his  mansion  down,  and  the  family  had  to  fly  for  their 
lives.  They  were  hunted  from  place  to  place,  and 
learned  all  there  was  to  know  about  poverty,  hunger, 
and  distress.  The  invalid  aunt  found  relief  at  last: 

293 


MARK     TWAIN 

misery  and  exposure  killed  her;  she  died  in  an  open 
field,  like  a  tramp,  the  rain  beating  upon  her  and  the 
thunder  booming  overhead.  Not  long  afterward  the 
father  was  captured  by  an  armed  band;  and  while 
the  son  begged  and  pleaded,  the  victim  was  strung 
up  before  his  face.  [At  this  point  a  baleful  light 
shone  in  the  youth's  eyes,  and  he  said,  with  the 
manner  of  one  who  talks  to  himself:  "If  I  cannot 
be  enlisted,  no  matter — I  shall  find  a  way — I  shall 
find  a  way."]  As  soon  as  the  father  was  pronounced 
dead,  the  son  was  told  that  if  he  was  not  out  of 
that  region  within  twenty-four  hours  it  would  go 
hard  with  him.  That  night  he  crept  to  the  riverside 
and  hid  himself  near  a  plantation  landing.  By  and 
by  the  Duncan  F.  Kenner  stopped  there,  and  he  swam 
out  and  concealed  himself  in  the  yawl  that  was 
dragging  at  her  stern.  Before  daylight  the  boat 
reached  the  Stock  Landing  and  he  slipped  ashore. 
He  walked  the  three  miles  which  lay  between  that 
point  and  the  house  of  an  uncle  of  his  in  Good- 
Children  Street,  in  New  Orleans,  and  then  his  trou- 
bles were  over  for  the  time  being.  But  this  uncle 
was  a  Union  man,  too,  and  before  very  long  he 
concluded  that  he  had  better  leave  the  South.  So 
he  and  young  Wicklow  slipped  out  of  the  country 
on  board  a  sailing-vessel,  and  in  due  time  reached 
New  York.  They  put  up  at  the  Astor  House. 
Young  Wicklow  had  a  good  time  of  it  for  a  while, 
strolling  up  and  down  Broadway,  and  observing  the 
strange  Northern  sights;  but  in  the  end  a  change 
came — and  not  for  the  better.  The  uncle  had  been 
cheerful  at  first,  but  now  he  began  to  look  troubled 

294 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

despondent;  moreover,  he  became  moody  and 
irritable ;  talked  of  money  giving  out,  and  no  way  to 
get  more — "not  enough  left  for  one,  let  alone  two." 
Then,  one  morning,  he  was  missing — did  not  come  to 
breakfast.  The  boy  inquired  at  the  office,  and  was 
told  that  the  uncle  had  paid  his  bill  the  night  before 
and  gone  away — to  Boston,  the  clerk  believed,  but 
was  not  certain. 

The  lad  was  alone  and  friendless.  He  did  not 
know  what  to  do,  but  concluded  he  had  better  try  to 
follow  and  find  his  uncle.  He  went  down  to  the 
steamboat  landing:  learned  that  the  trifle  of  money 
in  his  pocket  would  not  carry  him  to  Boston;  how- 
ever, it  would  carry  him  to  New  London;  so  he  took 
passage  for  that  port,  resolving  to  trust  to  Providence 
to  furnish  him  means  to  travel  the  rest  of  the  way. 
He  had  now  been  wandering  about  the  streets  of  New 
London  three  days  and  nights,  getting  a  bite  and  a 
nap  here  and  there  for  charity's  sake.  But  he  had 
given  up  at  last;  courage  and  hope  were  both  gone. 
If  he  could  enlist,  nobody  could  be  more  thankful; 
if  he  could  not  get  in  as  a  soldier,  couldn't  he  be  a 
drummer-boy  ?  Ah,  he  would  work  so  hard  to  please, 
and  would  be  so  grateful! 

Well,  there's  the  history  of  young  Wicklow,  just 
as  he  told  it  to  me,  barring  details.  I  said: 

"My  boy,  you  are  among  friends  now — don't  you 
be  troubled  any  more."  How  his  eyes  glistened !  I 
called  in  Sergeant  John  Rayburn  —  he  was  from 
Hartford ;  lives  in  Hartford  yet ;  maybe  you  know  him 
— and  said,  "Rayburn,  quarter  this  boy  with  the 
musicians.  I  am  going  to  enroll  him  as  a  drummer- 

295 


MARK     TWAIN 

boy,  and  I  want  you  to  look  after  him  and  see  that 
he  is  well  treated." 

Well,  of  course,  intercourse  between  the  com- 
mandant of  the  post  and  the  drummer-boy  came  to 
an  end  now;  but  the  poor  little  friendless  chap  lay 
heavy  on  my  heart  just  the  same.  I  kept  on  the 
lookout,  hoping  to  see  him  brighten  up  and  begin  to 
be  cheery  and  gay;  but  no,  the  days  went  by,  and 
there  was  no  change.  He  associated  with  nobody; 
he  was  always  absent-minded,  always  thinking; his 
face  was  always  sad.  One  morning  Rayburn  asked 
leave  to  speak  to  me  privately.  Said  he : 

"I  hope  I  don't  offend,  sir;  but  the  truth  is,  the 
musicians  are  in  such  a  sweat  it  seems  as  if  some- 
body's got  to  speak." 

"Why,  what  is  the  trouble?" 

"It's  the  Wicklow  boy,  sir.  The  musicians  are 
down  on  him  to  an  extent  you  can't  imagine." 

"Well,  go  on,  go  on.    What  has  he  been  doing?" 

"Prayin',  sir." 

"Praying!" 

"Yes,  sir;  the  musicians  haven't  any  peace  of 
their  life  for  that  boy's  prayin'.  First  thing  in  the 
mornin'  he's  at  it;  noons  he's  at  it;  and  nights — well, 
nights  he  just  lays  into  'em  like  all  possessed !  Sleep  ? 
Bless  you,  they  can't  sleep:  he's  got  the  floor,  as  the 
sayin'  is,  and  then  when  he  once  gets  his  supplication- 
mill  agoin'  there  just  simply  ain't  any  let-up  to  him. 
He  starts  in  with  the  band-master,  and  he  prays  for 
him;  next  he  takes  the  head  bugler,  and  he  prays  for 
him;  next  the  bass  drum,  and  he  scoops  him  in;  and 
so  on,  right  straight  through  the  band,  givin'  them 

296 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

all  a  show,  and  takin'  that  amount  of  interest  in  it 
which  would  make  you  think  he  thought  he  warn't 
but  a  little  while  for  this  world,  and  believed  he 
couldn't  be  happy  in  heaven  without  he  had  a  brass- 
band  along,  and  wanted  to  pick  'em  out  for  himself, 
so  he  could  depend  on  'em  to  do  up  the  national  tunes 
in  a  style  suitin'  to  the  place.  Well,  sir,  heavin'  boots 
at  him  don't  have  no  effect;  it's  dark  in  there;  and, 
besides,  he  don't  pray  fair,  anyway,  but  kneels  down 
behind  the  big  drum;  so  it  don't  make  no  difference 
if  they  rain  boots  at  him,  he  don't  give  a  dern — 
warbles  right  along,  same  as  if  it  was  applause. 
They  sing  out,  'Oh,  dry  up!'  'Give  us  a  rest!' 
'Shoot  him!'  'Oh,  take  a  walk!'  and  all  sorts  of 
such  things.  But  what  of  it?  It  don't  faze  him. 
He  don't  mind  it."  After  a  pause:  "Kind  of  a  good 
little  fool,  too;  gits  up  in  the  mornin'  and  carts  all 
that  stock  of  boots  back,  and  sorts  'em  out  and  sets 
each  man's  pair  where  they  belong.  And  they've 
been  throwed  at  him  so  much  now  that  he  knows 
every  boot  in  the  band — can  sort  'em  out  with  his 
eyes  shut." 

After  another  pause,  which  I  forbore  to  interrupt : 
"But  the  roughest  thing  about  it  is  that  when  he's 
done  prayin' — when  he  ever  does  get  done — he  pipes 
up  and  begins  to  sing.  Well,  you  know  what  a  honey 
kind  of  a  voice  he's  got  when  he  talks ;  you  know  how 
it  would  persuade  a  cast-iron  dog  to  come  down  off 
of  a  door-step  and  lick  his  hand.  Now  if  you'll  take 
my  word  for  it,  sir,  it  ain't  a  circumstance  to  his 
singin'!  Flute  music  is  harsh  to  that  boy's  singin'. 
Oh,  he  just  gurgles  it  out  so  soft  and  sweet  and  low, 

297 


MARK    TWAIN 

there  in  the  dark,  that  it  makes  you  think  you  are 

in  heaven." 

"What  is  there  'rough'  about  that?" 
"Ah,  that's  just  it,  sir.    You  hear  him  sing 

" '  Just  as  I  am — poor,  wretched,  blind ' — 

just  you  hear  him  sing  that  once,  and  see  if  you 
don't  melt  all  up  and  the  water  come  into  your  eyes! 
I  don't  care  what  he  sings,  it  goes  plum  straight 
home  to  you — it  goes  deep  down  to  where  you  live — 
and  it  fetches  you  every  time !  Just  you  hear  him  sing 

'"Child  of  sin  and  sorrow,  filled  with  dismay, 
Wait  not  till  to-morrow,  yield  thee  to-day; 
Grieve  not  that  love 
Which,  from  above' — 

and  so  on.  It  makes  a  body  feel  like  the  wickedest, 
ungratefulest  brute  that  walks.  And  when  he  sings 
chem  songs  of  his  about  home,  and  mother,  and 
childhood,  and  old  memories,  and  things  that's 
vanished,  and  old  friends  dead  and  gone,  it  fetches 
everything  before  your  face  that  you've  ever  loved 
and  lost  in  all  your  life — and  it's  just  beautiful,  it's 
just  divine  to  listen  to,  sir  —  but,  Lord,  Lord,  the 
heartbreak  of  it!  The  band  —  well,  they  all  cry — 
every  rascal  of  them  blubbers,  and  don't  try  to  hide 
it,  either;  and  first  you  know,  that  very  gang  that's 
been  slammin'  boots  at  that  boy  will  skip  out  of  their 
bunks  all  of  a  sudden,  and  rush  over  in  the  dark  and 
hug  him!  Yes,  they  do — and  slobber  all  over  him, 
and  call  him  pet  names,  and  beg  him  to  forgive 
them.  And  just  at  that  time,  if  a  regiment  was  to 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

offer  to  hurt  a  hair  of  that  cub's  head,  they'd  go  for 
that  regiment,  if  it  was  a  whole  army  corps!" 

Another  pause. 

"Is  that  all?"  said  I. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  dear  me,  what  is  the  complaint?  What  do 
they  want  done?" 

"Done?  Why,  bless  you,  sir,  they  want  you  to 
stop  him  from  singin'." 

"What  an  idea!    You  said  his  music  was  divine." 

"That's  just  it.  It's  too  divine.  Mortal  man 
can't  stand  it.  It  stirs  a  body  up  so;  it  turns  a  body 
inside  out;  it  racks  his  feelin's  all  to  rags;  it  makes 
him  feel  bad  and  wicked,  and  not  fit  for  any  place 
but  perdition.  It  keeps  a  body  in  such  an  everlastin' 
state  of  repentin',  that  nothin'  don't  taste  good  and 
there  ain't  no  comfort  in  life.  And  then  the  cryin', 
you  see — every  mornin'  they  are  ashamed  to  look 
one  another  in  the  face." 

"Well,  this  is  an  odd  case,  and  a  singular  com- 
plaint. So  they  really  want  the  singing  stopped?" 

"Yes,  sir,  that  is  the  idea.  They  don't  wish  to 
ask  too  much ;  they  would  like  powerful  well  to  have 
the  prayin'  shut  down  on,  or  leastways  trimmed  off 
around  the  edges;  but  the  main  thing's  the  singin'. 
If  they  can  only  get  the  singin'  choked  off,  they 
think  they  can  stand  the  prayin',  rough  as  it  is  to 
be  bullyragged  so  much  that  way." 

I  told  the  sergeant  I  would  take  the  matter  under 
consideration.  That  night  I  crept  into  the  mu- 
sicians' quarters  and  listened.  The  sergeant  had  not 
overstated  the  case.  I  heard  the  praying  voice 

299 


MARK    TWAIN 

pleading  in  the  dark;  I  heard  the  execrations  of  the 
harassed  men ;  I  heard  the  rain  of  boots  whiz  through 
the  air,  and  bang  and  thump  around  the  big  drum. 
The  thing  touched  me,  but  it  amused  me,  too.  By 
and  by,  after  an  impressive  silence,  came  the  sing- 
ing. Lord,  the  pathos  of  it,  the  enchantment  of  it! 
Nothing  in  the  world  was  ever  so  sweet,  so  gracious, 
so  tender,  so  holy,  so  moving.  I  made  my  stay  very 
brief;  I  was  beginning  to  experience  emotions  of  a 
sort  not  proper  to  the  commandant  of  a  fortress. 

Next  day  I  issued  orders  which  stopped  the  praying 
and  singing.  Then  followed  three  or  four  days  which 
were  so  full  of  bounty-jumping  excitements  and  irri- 
tations that  I  never  once  thought  of  my  drummer- 
boy.  But  now  comes  Sergeant  Rayburn,  one  morn- 
ing, and  says: 

"That  new  boy  acts  mighty  strange,  sir." 

"How?" 

"Well,  sir,  he's  all  the  time  writinV 

"Writing?    What  does  he  write— letters?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir;  but  whenever  he's  off  duty,  he 
is  always  pokin'  and  nosin'  around  the  fort,  all  by 
himself — blest  if  I  think  there's  a  hole  or  corner  in 
it  he  hasn't  been  into — and  every  little  while  he  outs 
with  pencil  and  paper  and  scribbles  somethin'  down." 

This  gave  me  a  most  unpleasant  sensation.  I 
wanted  to  scoff  at  it,  but  it  was  not  a  time  to  scoff 
at  anything  that  had  the  least  suspicious  tinge  about 
it.  Things  were  happening  all  around  us  in  the 
North  then  that  warned  us  to  be  always  on  the 
alert,  and  always  suspecting.  I  recalled  to  mind  the 
suggestive  fact  that  this  boy  was  from  the  South — • 

300 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

the  extreme  South,  Louisiana — and  the  thought  was 
not  of  a  reassuring  nature,  under  the  circumstances. 
Nevertheless,  it  cost  me  a  pang  to  give  the  orders 
which  I  now  gave  to  Rayburn.  I  felt  like  a  father 
who  plots  to  expose  his  own  child  to  shame  and 
injury.  I  told  Rayburn  to  keep  quiet,  bide  his  time, 
and  get  me  some  of  those  writings  whenever  he  could 
manage  it  without  the  boy's  finding  it  out.  And  I 
charged  him  not  to  do  anything  which  might  let  the 
boy  discover  that  he  was  being  watched.  I  also 
ordered  that  he  allow  the  lad  his  usual  liberties,  but 
that  he  be  followed  at  a  distance  when  he  went  out 
into  the  town. 

During  the  next  two  days  Rayburn  reported  to 
me  several  times.  No  success.  The  boy  was  still 
writing,  but  he  always  pocketed  his  paper  with  a 
careless  air  whenever  Rayburn  appeared  in  the 
vicinity.  He  had  gone  twice  to  an  old  deserted 
stable  in  the  town,  remained  a  minute  or  two,  and 
come  out  again.  One  could  not  pooh-pooh  these 
things — they  had  an  evil  look.  I  was  obliged  to 
confess  to  myself  that  I  was  getting  uneasy.  I  went 
into  my  private  quarters  and  sent  for  my  second  in 
command — an  officer  of  intelligence  and  judgment, 
son  of  General  James  Watson  Webb.  He  was  sur- 
prised and  troubled.  We  had  a  long  talk  over  the 
matter,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  would  be 
worth  while  to  institute  a  secret  search.  I  deter- 
mined to  take  charge  of  that  myself.  So  I  had  my- 
self called  at  two  in  the  morning;  and  pretty  soon 
after  I  was  in  the  musicians'  quarters,  crawling 
along  the  floor  on  my  stomach  among  the  snorers. 

301 


MARK    TWAIN 

I  reached  my  slumbering  waif's  bunk  at  last,  without 
disturbing  anybody,  captured  his  clothes  and  kit, 
and  crawled  stealthily  back  again.  When  I  got  to 
my  own  quarters,  I  found  Webb  there,  waiting  and 
eager  to  know  the  result.  We  made  search  imme- 
diately. The  clothes  were  a  disappointment.  In 
the  pockets  we  found  blank  paper  and  a  pencil; 
nothing  else,  except  a  jackknife  and  such  queer  odds 
and  ends  and  useless  trifles  as  boys  hoard  and  value. 
We  turned  to  the  kit  hopefully.  Nothing  there  but 
a  rebuke  for  us! — a  little  Bible  with  this  written  on 
the  fly-leaf:  "Stranger,  be  kind  to  my  boy,  for  his 
mother's  sake." 

I  looked  at  Webb — he  dropped  his  eyes;  he  looked 
at  me — I  dropped  mine.  Neither  spoke.  I  put  the 
book  reverently  back  in  its  place.  Presently  Webb 
got  up  and  went  away,  without  remark.  After  a 
little  I  nerved  myself  up  to  my  unpalatable  job,  and 
took  the  plunder  back  to  where  it  belonged,  crawl- 
ing on  my  stomach  as  before.  It  seemed  the 
peculiarly  appropriate  attitude  for  the  business  I 
was  in. 

I  was  most  honestly  glad  when  it  was  over  and 
done  with. 

About  noon  next  day  Rayburn  came,  as  usual,  to 
report.  I  cut  him  short.  I  said: 

"Let  this  nonsense  be  dropped.  We  are  making 
a  bugaboo  out  of  a  poor  little  cub  who  has  got  no 
more  harm  in  him  than  a  hymn-book." 

The  sergeant  looked  surprised,  and  said : 

"Well,  you  know  it  was  your  orders,  sir,  and  I've 
got  some  of  the  writin'." 

302 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

"And  what  does  it  amount  to?  How  did  you 
get  it?" 

"I  peeped  through  the  keyhole,  and  see  him 
writin'.  So,  when  I  judged  he  was  about  done,  I 
made  a  sort  of  a  little  cough,  and  I  see  him  crumple 
it  up  and  throw  it  in  the  fire,  and  look  all  around  to 
see  if  anybody  was  comin'.  Then  he  settled  back 
as  comfortable  and  careless  as  anything.  Then  I 
comes  in,  and  passes  the  time  of  day  pleasantly,  and 
sends  him  on  an  errand.  He  never  looked  uneasy, 
but  went  right  along.  It  was  a  coal  fire  and  new 
built ;  the  writin'  had  gone  over  behind  a  chunk,  out 
of  sight;  but  I  got  it  out;  there  it  is;  it  ain't  hardly 
scorched,  you  see." 

I  glanced  at  the  paper  and  took  in  a  sentence  or 
two.  Then  I  dismissed  the  sergeant  and  told  him 
to  send  Webb  to  me.  Here  is  the  paper  in  full: 

PORT  TRUMBULL,  the  8th. 

COLONEL, — I  was  "mistaken  as  to  the  caliber  of  the  three 
guns  I  ended  my  list  with.  They  are  i8-pounders;  all  the  rest 
of  the  armament  is  as  I  stated.  The  garrison  remains  as  before 
reported,  except  that  the  two  light  infantry  companies  that 
were  to  be  detached  for  service  at  the  front  are  to  stay  here  for 
the  present — can't  find  out  for  how  long,  just  now,  but  will 
soon.  We  are  satisfied  that,  all  things  considered,  matters  had 
better  be  postponed  un — 

There  it  broke  off — there  is  where  Rayburn 
coughed  and  interrupted  the  writer.  All  my  affec- 
tion for  the  boy,  all  my  respect  for  him  and  charity 
for  his  forlorn  condition,  withered  in  a  moment  under 
the  blight  of  this  revelation  of  cold-blooded  baseness. 

But  never  mind  about  that.  Here  was  business — 
20  303 


MARK    TWAIN 

business  that  required  profound  and  immediate  at- 
tention, too.  Webb  and  I  turned  the  subject  over 
and  over,  and  examined  it  all  around.  Webb  said: 

"What  a  pity  he  was  interrupted!  Something  is 
going  to  be  postponed  until — when?  And  what  is 
the  something?  Possibly  he  would  have  mentioned 
it,  the  pious  little  reptile!" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "we  have  missed  a  trick.  And 
who  is  'we'  in  the  letter?  Is  it  conspirators  inside 
the  fort  or  outside?" 

That  "we"  was  uncomfortably  suggestive.  How- 
ever, it  was  not  worth  while  to  be  guessing  around 
that,  so  we  proceeded  to  matters  more  practical. 
In  the  first  place,  we  decided  to  double  the  sentries 
and  keep  the  strictest  possible  watch.  Next,  we 
thought  of  calling  Wicklow  in  and  making  him  di- 
vulge everything;  but  that  did  not  seem  wisest  until 
other  methods  should  fail.  We  must  have  some  more 
of  the  writings;  so  we  began  to  plan  to  that  end. 
And  now  we  had  an  idea:  Wicklow  never  went  to  the 
post-office — perhaps  the  deserted  stable  was  his  post- 
office.  We  sent  for  my  confidential  clerk — a  young 
German  named  Sterne,  who  was  a  sort  of  natural 
detective — and  told  him  all  about  the  case,  and 
ordered  him  to  go  to  work  on  it.  Within  the  hour 
we  got  word  that  Wicklow  was  writing  again. 
Shortly  afterward  word  came  that  lie  had  asked 
leave  to  go  out  nto  the  town.  He  was  detained 
awhile  and  meantime  Sterne  hurried  off.  and  con- 
cealed himself  in  the  stable.  By  and  by  he  saw 
Wicklow  saunter  in,  look  about  him,  then  hide  some- 
thing under  some  rubbish  in  a  corner,  and  take 

304 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

leisurely  leave  again.  Sterne  pounced  upon  the 
hidden  article — a  letter — and  brought  it  to  us.  It 
had  no  superscription  and  no  signature.  It  repeated 
what  we  had  already  read,  and  then  went  on  to  say : 

We  think  it  best  to  postpone  till  the  two  companies  are 
gone.  I  mean  the  four  inside  think  so;  have  not  communicated 
with  the  others — afraid  of  attracting  attention.  I  say  four 
because  we  have  lost  two;  they  had  hardly  enlisted  and  got 
inside  when  they  were  shipped  off  to  the  front.  It  will  be 
absolutely  necessary  to  have  two  in  their  places.  The  two  that 
went  were  the  brothers  from  Thirty-mile  Point.  I  have  some- 
thing of  the  greatest  importance  to  reveal,  but  must  not  trust  it 
to  this  method  of  communication;  will  try  the  other. 

"The  little  scoundrel!"  said  Webb;  "who  could 
have  supposed  he  was  a  spy?  However,  never  mind 
about  that;  let  us  add  up  our  particulars,  such  as 
they  are,  and  see  how  the  case  stands  to  date.  First, 
we've  got  a  rebel  spy  in  our  midst,  whom  we  know; 
secondly,  we've  got  three  more  in  our  midst  whom 
we  don't  know;  thirdly,  these  spies  have  been  intro- 
duced among  us  through  the  simple  and  easy  process 
of  enlisting  as  soldiers  in  the  Union  army — and 
evidently  two  of  them  have  got  sold  at  it,  and  been 
shipped  off  to  the  front ;  fourthly,  there  are  assistant 
spies  'outside' — number  indefinite;  fifthly,  Wicklow 
has  very  important  matter  which  he  is  afraid  to 
communicate  by  the  'present  method' — will  'try  the 
other.'  That  is  the  case,  as  it  now  stands.  Shall 
we  collar  Wicklow  and  make  him  confess  ?  Or  shall 
we  catch  the  person  who  removes  the  letters  from  the 
stable  and  make  him  tell?  Or  shall  we  keep  still 
and  find  out  more?" 


We  decided  upon  the  last  course.  We  judged  that 
we  did  not  need  to  proceed  to  summary  measures 
now,  since  it  was  evident  that  the  conspirators  were 
likely  to  wait  till  those  two  light  infantry  compa- 
nies were  out  of  the  way.  We  fortified  Sterne  with 
pretty  ample  powers,  and  told  him  to  use  his  best 
endeavors  to  find  out  Wicklow's  "other  method"  of 
communication.  We  meant  to  play  a  bold  game; 
and  to  this  end  we  proposed  to  keep  the  spies  in 
an  unsuspecting  state  as  long  as  possible.  So  we 
ordered  Sterne  to  return  to  the  stable  immediately, 
and,  if  he  found  the  coast  clear,  to  conceal  Wicklow's 
letter  where  it  was  before,  and  leave  it  there  for  the 
conspirators  to  get. 

The  night  closed  down  without  further  event.  It 
was  cold  and  dark  and  sleety,  with  a  raw  wind 
blowing;  still  I  turned  out  of  my  warm  bed  several 
times  during  the  night,  and  went  the  rounds  in  per- 
son, to  see  that  all  was  right  and  that  every  sentry 
was  on  the  alert.  I  always  found  them  wide  awake 
and  watchful;  evidently  whispers  of  mysterious 
dangers  had  been  floating  about,  and  the  doubling 
of  the  guards  had  been  a  kind  of  indorsement  of 
those  rumors.  Once,  toward  morning,  I  encountered 
Webb,  breasting  his  way  against  the  bitter  wind, 
and  learned  then  that  he,  also,  had  been  the  rounds 
several  times  to  see  that  all  was  going  right. 

Next  day's  events  hurried  things  up  somewhat. 
Wicklow  wrote  another  letter;  Sterne  preceded  him 
to  the  stable  and  saw  him  deposit  it;  captured  it 
as  soon  as  Wicklow  was  out  of  the  way,  then  slipped 
out  and  followed  the  little  spy  at  a  distance,  with  a 

306 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

detective  in  plain  clothes  at  his  own  heels,  for  we 
thought  it  judicious  to  have  the  law's  assistance 
handy  in  case  of  need.  Wicklow  went  to  the  railway 
station,  and  waited  around  till  the  train  from  New 
York  came  in,  then  stood  scanning  the  faces  of  the 
crowd  as  they  poured  out  of  the  cars.  Presently  an 
aged  gentleman,  with  green  goggles  and  a  cane, 
came  limping  along,  stopped  in  Wicklow's  neighbor- 
hood, and  began  to  look  about  him  expectantly.  In 
an  instant  Wicklow  darted  forward,  thrust  an  en- 
velope into  his  hand,  then  glided  away  and  disap- 
peared in  the  throng.  The  next  instant  Sterne  had 
snatched  the  letter;  and  as  he  hurried  past  the 
detective,  he  said:  "Follow  the  old  gentleman — 
don't  lose  sight  of  him."  Then  Sterne  skurried 
out  with  the  crowd,  and  came  straight  to  the 
fort. 

We  sat  with  closed  doors,  and  instructed  the  guard 
outside  to  allow  no  interruption. 

First  we  opened  the  letter  captured  at  the  stable. 
It  read  as  follows: 

HOLY  ALLIANCE, — Found,  in  the  usual  gun,  commands  from 
the  Master,  left  there  last  night,  which  set  aside  the  instructions 
heretofore  received  from  the  subordinate  quarter.  Have  left 
in  the  gun  the  usual  indication  that  the  commands  reached  the 
proper  hand — 

Webb,  interrupting:  "Isn't  the  boy  under  con* 
stant  surveillance  now?" 

I  said  yes;  he  had  been  under  strict  surveillance 
ever  since  the  capturing  of  his  former  letter. 

"Then  how  could  he  put  anything  into  a  gun,  or 
take  anything  out  of  it,  and  not  get  caught?" 


MARK     TWAIN 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  don't  like  the  look  of  that  very 
well." 

"I  don't  either,"  said  Webb.  "It  simply  means 
that  there  are  conspirators  among  the  very  sentinels. 
Without  their  connivance  in  some  way  or  other,  the 
thing  couldn't  have  been  done." 

I  sent  for  Rayburn,  and  ordered  him  to  examine 
the  batteries  and  see  what  he  could  find.  The  reading 
of  the  letter  was  then  resumed: 

The  new  commands  are  peremptory,  and  require  that  the 
MMMM  shall  be  FFFFF  at  3  o'clock  to-morrow  morning. 
Two  hundred  will  arrive,  in  small  parcies,  by  train  and  other- 
wise, from  various  directions,  and  will  be  at  appointed  place  at 
right  time.  I  will  distribute  the  sign  to-day.  Success  is  appar- 
ently sure,  though  something  must  have  got  out,  for  the  sentries 
have  been  doubled,  and  the  chiefs  went  the  rounds  last  night 
several  times.  W.  W.  comes  from  southerly  to-day  and  will 
receive  secret  orders — by  the  other  method.  All  six  of  you  must 
be  in  166  at  sharp  2  A.M.  You  will  find  B.  B.  there,  who  will 
give  you  detailed  instructions.  Password  same  as  last  time, 
only  reversed — put  first  syllable  last  and  last  syllable  first. 
REMEMBER  XXXX.  Do  not  forget.  Be  of  good  heart;  before 
the  next  sun  rises  you  will  be  heroes;  your  fame  will  be  perma- 
nent; you  will  have  added  a  deathless  page  to  history.  AMEN. 

"Thunder  and  Mars,"  said  Webb,  "but  we  are 
getting  into  mighty  hot  quarters,  as  I  look  at  it!" 

I  said  there  was  no  question  but  that  things  were 
beginning  to  wear  a  most  serious  aspect.  Said  I: 

"A  desperate  enterprise  is  on  foot,  that  is  plain 
enough.  To-night  is  the  time  set  for  it — that,  also, 
is  plain.  The  exact  nature  of  the  enterprise — I  mean 
the  manner  of  it — is  hidden  away  under  those  blind 
bunches  of  M's  and  F's,  but  the  end  and  aim,  I  judge, 
is  the  surprise  and  capture  of  the  post.  We  must 

308 


move  quick  and  sharp  now.  I  think  nothing  can  be 
gained  by  continuing  our  clandestine  policy  as  re- 
gards Wicklow.  We  must  know,  and  as  soon  as 
possible,  too,  where  '166'  is  located,  so  that  we  can 
make  a  descent  upon  the  gang  there  at  2  A.M.;  and 
doubtless  the  quickest  way  to  get  that  information 
will  be  to  force  it  out  of  that  boy.  But  first  of  all, 
and  before  we  make  any  important  move,  I  must  lay 
the  facts  before  the  War  Department,  and  ask  for 
plenary  powers." 

The  despatch  was  prepared  in  cipher  to  go  over 
the  wires;  I  read  it,  approved  it,  and  sent  it 
along. 

We  presently  finished  discussing  the  letter  which 
was  under  consideration,  and  then  opened  the  one 
which  had  been  snatched  from  the  lame  gentleman. 
It  contained  nothing  but  a  couple  of  perfectly  blank 
sheets  of  note-paper!  It  was  a  chilly  check  to  our 
hot  eagerness  and  expectancy.  We  felt  as  blank  as 
the  paper,  for  a  moment,  and  twice  as  foolish.  But 
it  was  for  a  moment  only;  for,  of  course,  we  imme- 
diately afterward  thought  of  "sympathetic  ink." 
We  held  the  paper  close  to  the  fire  and  watched  for 
the  characters  to  come  out,  under  the  influence  of  the 
heat;  but  nothing  appeared  but  some  faint  tracings, 
which  we  could  make  nothing  of.  We  then  called 
in  the  surgeon,  and  sent  him  off  with  orders  to  apply 
every  test  he  was  acquainted  with  till  he  got  the  right 
one,  and  report  the  contents  of  the  letter  to  me  the 
instant  he  brought  them  to  the  surface.  This  check 
was  a  confounded  annoyance,  and  we  naturally 
chafed  under  the  delay ;  for  we  had  fully  expected  to 

300 


MARK    TWAIN 

get  out  of  that  letter  some  of  the  most  important 
secrets  of  the  plot. 

Now  appeared  Sergeant  Rayburn,  and  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  piece  of  twine  string  about  a  foot  long, 
with  three  knots  tied  in  it,  and  held  it  up. 

"I  got  it  out  of  a  gun  on  the  water-front,"  said 
he.  "I  took  the  tompions  out  of  all  the  guns  and 
examined  close;  this  string  was  the  only  thing  that 
was  in  any  gun." 

So  this  bit  of  string  was  Wicklow's  "sign"  to 
signify  that  the  "Master's"  commands  had  not  mis- 
carried. I  ordered  that  every  sentinel  who  had  served 
near  that  gun  during  the  past  twenty-four  hours  be 
put  in  confinement  at  once  and  separately,  and  not 
allowed  to  communicate  with  any  one  without  my 
privity  and  consent. 

A  telegram  now  came  from  the  Secretary  of  War. 
It  read  as  follows: 

Suspend  habeas  corpus.  Put  town  under  martial  law.  Make 
necessary  arrests.  Act  with  vigor  and  promptness.  Keep  the 
Department  informed. 

We  were  now  in  shape  to  go  to  work.  I  sent  out 
and  had  the  lame  gentleman  quietly  arrested  and  as 
quietly  brought  into  the  fort;  I  placed  him  under 
guard,  and  forbade  speech  to  him  or  from  him.  He 
was  inclined  to  bluster  at  first,  but  he  soon  dropped 
that. 

Next  came  word  that  Wicklow  had  been  seen  to 
give  something  to  a  couple  of  our  new  recruits;  and 
that,  as  soon  as  his  back  was  turned,  these  had 
been  seized  and  confined.  Upon  each  was  found 

310 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

a  small  bit  of  paper,  bearing  these  words  and  signs 
in  pencil: 


EAGLE'S  THIRD  FLIGHT 

REMEMBER  xxxx 

1 66 


In  accordance  with  instructions,  I  telegraphed  to 
the  Department,  in  cipher,  the  progress  made,  and 
also  described  the  above  ticket.  We  seemed  to  be 
in  a  strong  enough  position  now  to  venture  to  throw 
off  the  mask  as  regarded  Wicklow;  so  I  sent  for  him. 
I  also  sent  for  and  received  back  the  letter  written 
in  sympathetic  ink,  the  surgeon  accompanying  it 
with  the  information  that  thus  far  it  had  resisted  his 
tests,  but  that  there  were  others  he  could  apply  when 
I  should  be  ready  for  him  to  do  so. 

Presently  Wicklow  entered.  He  had  a  somewhat 
worn  and  anxious  look,  but  he  was  composed  and 
easy,  and  if  he  suspected  anything  it  did  not  appear 
in  his  face  or  manner.  I  allowed  him  to  stand  there 
a  moment  or  two;  then  I  said,  pleasantly: 

"My  boy,  why  do  you  go  to  that  old  stable  so 
much?" 

He  answered,  with  simple  demeanor  and  without 
embarrassment : 

"Well,  I  hardly  know,  sir;  there  isn't  any  particu- 
lar reason,  except  that  I  like  to  be  alone,  and  I 
amuse  myself  there." 

"You  amuse  yourself  there,  do  you?" 
3" 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  replied,  as  innocently  and  simply  as 
before. 

"Is  that  all  you  do  there?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  said,  looking  up  with  childlike 
wonderment  in  his  big,  soft  eyes. 

"You  are  sure?" 

"Yes,  sir,  sure." 

After  a  pause  I  said: 

"Wicklow,  why  do  you  write  so  much?" 

"I?     I  do  not  write  much,  sir." 

"You  don't?" 

"No,  sir.  Oh,  if  you  mean  scribbling,  I  do  scribble 
some,  for  amusement." 

"What  do  you  do  with  your  scribblings?" 

"Nothing,  sir — throw  them  away." 

"Never  send  them  to  anybody?" 

"No,  sir." 

I  suddenly  thrust  before  him  the  letter  to  the 
"Colonel."  He  started  slightly,  but  immediately 
composed  himself.  A  slight  tinge  spread  itself  over 
his  cheek. 

"How  came  you  to  send  this  piece  of  scribbling, 
then?" 

"I  nev — never  meant  any  harm,  sir!" 

"Never  meant  any  harm!  You  betray  the  arma- 
ment and  condition  of  the  post,  and  mean  no  harm 
by  it?" 

He  hung  his  head  and  was  silent. 

"Come,  speak  up,  and  stop  lying.  Whom  was  this 
letter  intended  for?" 

He  showed  signs  of  distress  now;  but  quickly  col- 
lected himself,  and  replied,  in  a  tone  of  deep  earnestness : 

312 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

"I  will  tell  you  the  truth,  sir — the  whole  truth. 
The  letter  was  never  intended  for  anybody  at  all.  I 
wrote  it  only  to  amuse  myself.  I  see  the  error  and 
foolishness  of  it  now;  but  it  is  the  only  offense,  sir, 
upon  my  honor." 

"Ah,  I  am  glad  of  that.  It  is  dangerous  to  be 
writing  such  letters.  I  hope  you  are  sure  this  is  the 
only  one  you  wrote?" 

"Yes,  sir,  perfectly  sure." 

His  hardihood  was  stupefying.  He  told  that  lie 
with  as  sincere  a  countenance  as  any  creature  ever 
wore.  I  waited  a  moment  to  soothe  down  my  rising 
temper,  and  then  said: 

"Wicklow,  jog  your  memory  now,  and  see  if  you 
can  help  me  with  two  or  three  little  matters  which 
I  wish  to  inquire  about." 

"I  will  do  my  very  best,  sir." 

"Then,  to  begin  with — who  is  'the  Master'?" 

It  betrayed  him  into  darting  a  startled  glance  at 
our  faces,  but  that  was  all.  He  was  serene  again  in 
a  moment,  and  tranquilly  answered: 

"I  do  not  know,  sir." 

"You  do  not  know?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"You  are  sure  you  do  not  know?" 

He  tried  hard  to  keep  his  eyes  on  mine,  but  the 
strain  was  too  great  his  chin  sunk  slowly  toward 
his  breast  and  he  was  silent ;  he  stood  there  nervously 
fumbling  with  a  button,  an  object  to  command  one's 
pity,  in  spite  of  his  base  acts.  Presently  I  broke  the 
stillness  with  the  question : 

"Who  are  the  'Holy  Alliance'?" 
313 


MARK     TWAIN 

His  body  shook  visibly,  and  he  made  a  slight 
random  gesture  with  his  hands,  which  to  me  was  like 
the  appeal  of  a  despairing  creature  for  compassion. 
But  he  made  no  sound.  He  continued  to  stand  with 
his  face  bent  toward  the  ground.  As  we  sat  gazing 
at  him,  waiting  for  him  to  speak,  we  saw  the  big 
tears  begin  to  roll  down  his  cheeks.  But  he  remained 
silent.  After  a  little,  I  said: 

"You  must  answer  me,  my  boy,  and  you  must  tell 
me  the  truth.  Who  are  the  Holy  Alliance?" 

He  wept  on  in  silence.  Presently  I  said,  some- 
what sharply: 

"Answer  the  question!" 

He  struggled  to  get  command  of  his  voice;  and 
then,  looking  up  appealingly,  forced  the  words  out 
between  his  sobs : 

"Oh,  have  pity  on  me,  sir!  I  cannot  answer  it, 
for  I  do  not  know." 

"What!" 

"Indeed,  sir,  I  am  telling  the  truth.  I  never  have 
heard  of  the  Holy  Alliance  till  this  moment.  On 
my  honor,  sir,  this  is  so." 

"Good  heavens!  Look  at  this  second  letter  of 
yours;  there,  do  you  see  those  words,  'Holy  Alliance'? 
What  do  you  say  now?" 

He  gazed  up  into  my  face  with  the  hurt  look  of 
one  upon  whom  a  great  wrong  had  been  wrought, 
then  said,  feelingly: 

"This  is  some  cruel  joke,  sir;  and  how  could  they 
play  it  upon  me,  who  have  tried  all  I  could  to  do 
right,  and  have  never  done  harm  to  anybody? 
Some  one  has  counterfeited  my  hand;  I  never 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

wrote  a  line  of  this;  I  have  never  seen  this  letter 
before!" 

"Oh,  you  unspeakable  liar!  Here,  what  do  you 
say  to  this?" — and  I  snatched  the  sympathetic-ink 
letter  from  my  pocket  and  thrust  it  before  his  eyes. 

His  face  turned  white! — as  white  as  a  dead  per- 
son's. He  wavered  slightly  in  his  tracks,  and  put  his 
hand  against  the  wall  to  steady  himself.  After  a 
moment  he  asked,  in  so  faint  a  voice  that  it  was 
hardly  audible: 

"Have  you — read  it?" 

Our  faces  must  have  answered  the  truth  before 
my  lips  could  get  out  a  false  "yes,"  for  I  distinctly 
saw  the  courage  come  back  into  that  boy's  eyes.  I 
waited  for  him  to  say  something,  but  he  kept  silent. 
So  at  last  I  said: 

"Well,  what  have  you  to  say  as  to  the  revelations 
in  this  letter?" 

He  answered,  with  perfect  composure : 

"Nothing,  except  that  they  are  entirely  harmless 
and  innocent;  they  can  hurt  nobody." 

I  was  in  something  of  a  corner  now,  as  I  couldn't 
disprove  his  assertion.  I  did  not  know  exactly  how 
to  proceed.  However,  an  idea  came  to  my  relief, 
and  I  said: 

"You  are  sure  you  know  nothing  about  the  Master 
and  the  Holy  Alliance,  and  did  not  write  the  letter 
which  you  say  is  a  forgery?" 

"Yes,  sir — sure." 

I  slowly  drew  out  the  knotted  twine  string  and 
held  it  up  without  speaking.  He  gazed  at  it  in- 
differently, then  looked  at  me  inquiringly.  My  pa- 


MARK    TWAIN 

tience  was  sorely  taxed.  However,  I  kept  my  tem- 
per down,  and  said,  in  my  usual  voice: 

"Wicklow,  do  you  see  this?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  is  it?" 

"It  seems  to  be  a  piece  of  string." 

"Seems?  It  is  a  piece  of  string.  Do  you  recog- 
nize it?" 

"No,  sir,"  he  replied,  as  calmly  as  the  words 
could  be  uttered. 

His  coolness  was  perfectly  wonderful!  I  paused 
now  for  several  seconds,  in  order  that  the  silence 
might  add  impressiveness  to  what  I  was  about  to 
say;  then  I  rose  and  laid  my  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
and  said,  gravely: 

"It  will  do  you  no  good,  poor  boy,  none  in  the 
world.  This  sign  to  the  'Master,'  this  knotted 
string,  found  in  one  of  the  guns  on  the  water- 
front—" 

"Found  in  the  gun!  Oh,  no,  no,  no!  do  not  say 
in  the  gun,  but  in  a  crack  in  the  tompion! — it  must 
have  been  in  the  crack!"  and  down  he  went  on  his 
knees  and  clasped  his  hands  and  lifted  up  a  face  that 
was  pitiful  to  see,  so  ashy  it  was,  and  wild  with 
terror. 

"No,  it  was  in  the  gun." 

"Oh,  something  has  gone  wrong!  My  God,  I  am 
lost!"  and  he  sprang  up  and  darted  this  way  and 
that,  dodging  the  hands  that  were  put  out  to  catch 
him,  and  doing  his  best  to  escape  from  the  place. 
But  of  course  escape  was  impossible.  Then  he  flung 
himself  on  his  knees  again,  crying  with  all  his  might, 

316 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

and  clasped  me  around  the  legs;  and  so  he  clung  to 
me  and  begged  and  pleaded,  saying,  "Oh,  have  pity 
on  me!  Oh,  be  merciful  to  me!  Do  not  betray  me; 
they  would  not  spare  my  life  a  moment!  Protect 
me,  save  me.  I  will  confess  everything!" 

It  took  us  some  time  to  quiet  him  down  and 
modify  his  fright,  and  get  him  into  something  like  a 
rational  frame  of  mind.  Then  I  began  to  question 
him,  he  answering  humbly,  with  downcast  eyes,  and 
from  time  to  time  swabbing  away  his  constantly 
flowing  tears: 

"So  you  are  at  heart  a  rebel?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  a  spy?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  have  been  acting  under  distinct  orders  from 
outside?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Willingly?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Gladly,  perhaps?" 

"Yes,  sir;  it  would  do  no  good  to  deny  it.  The 
South  is  my  country;  my  heart  is  Southern,  and  it 
is  all  in  her  cause." 

<cThen  the  tale  you  told  me  of  your  wrongs  and 
the  persecution  of  your  family  was  made  up  for 
the  occasion?" 

"They — they  told  me  to  say  it,  sir." 

"And  you  would  betray  and  destroy  those  who 
pitied  and  sheltered  you.  Do  you  comprehend  how 
base  you  are,  you  poor  misguided  thing?" 

He  replied  with  sobs  only. 


"Well,  let  that  pass.  To  business.  Who  is  the 
'Colonel,'  and  where  is  he?" 

He  began  to  cry  hard,  and  tried  to  beg  off  from 
answering.  He  said  he  would  be  killed  if  he  told. 
I  threatened  to  put  him  in  the  dark  cell  and  lock, 
him  up  if  he  did  not  come  out  with  the  information. 
At  the  same  time  I  promised  to  protect  him  from  all 
harm  if  he  made  a  clean  breast.  For  all  answer,  he 
closed  his  mouth  firmly  and  put  on  a  stubborn  air 
which  I  could  not  bring  him  out  of.  At  last  I  started 
with  him;  but  a  single  glance  into  the  dark  cell  con- 
verted him.  He  broke  into  a  passion  of  weeping  and 
supplicating,  and  declared  he  would  tell  everything. 

So  I  brought  him  back,  and  he  named  the  "Colo- 
nel," and  described  him  particularly.  Said  he  would 
be  found  at  the  principal  hotel  in  the  town,  in 
citizen's  dress.  I  had  to  threaten  him  again,  before 
he  would  describe  and  name  the  ' '  Master. ' '  Said  the 
Master  would  be  found  at  No.  15  Bond  Street,  New 
York,  passing  under  the  name  of  R.  F.  Gaylord.  I 
telegraphed  name  and  description  to  the  chief  of 
police  of  the  metropolis,  and  asked  that  Gaylord  be 
arrested  and  held  till  I  could  send  for  him. 

"Now,"  said  I,  "it  seems  that  there  are  several 
of  the  conspirators  'outside,'  presumably  in  New 
London.  Name  and  describe  them." 

He  named   and   described   three  men   and  two 
women — all  stopping  at  the  principal  hotel.     I  sent- 
out   quietly,    and   had   them   and   the    "Colonel" 
arrested  and  confined  in  the  fort. 

"Next,  I  want  to  know  all  about  your  three 
fellow-conspirators  who  are  here  in  the  fort." 

318 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

He  was  about  to  dodge  me  with  a  falsehood,  I 
thought ;  but  I  produced  the  mysterious  bits  of  paper 
which  had  been  found  upon  two  of  them,  and  this  had 
a  salutary  effect  upon  him.  I  said  we  had  possession 
of  two  of  the  men,  and  he  must  point  out  the  third. 
This  frightened  him  badly,  and  he  cried  out : 

"Oh,  please  don't  make  me;  he  would  kill  me  on 
the  spot!" 

I  said  that  that  was  all  nonsense;  I  would  have 
somebody  near  by  to  protect  him,  and,  besides,  the 
men  should  be  assembled  without  arms.  I  ordered 
all  the  raw  recruits  to  be  mustered,  and  then  the  poor, 
trembling  little  wretch  went  out  and  stepped  along 
down  the  line,  trying  to  look  as  indifferent  as  possible. 
Finally  he  spoke  a  single  word  to  one  of  the  men, 
and  before  he  had  gone  five  steps  the  man  was  under 
arrest. 

As  soon  as  Wicklow  was  with  us  again,  I  had  those 
three  men  brought  in.  I  made  one  of  them  stand 
forward,  and  said: 

"Now,  Wicklow,  mind,  not  a  shade's  divergence 
from  the  exact  truth.  Who  is  this  man,  and  what  do 
you  know  about  him?" 

Being  "in  for  it,"  he  cast  consequences  aside, 
fastened  his  eyes  on  the  man's  face,  and  spoke 
straight  along  without  hesitation — to  the  following 
effect : 

"His  real  name  is  George  Bristow.  He  is  from 
New  Orleans;  was  second  mate  of  the  coast-packet 
Capitol  two  years  ago;  is  a  desperate  character,  and 
has  served  two  terms  for  manslaughter — one  for 
killing  a  deck-hand  named  Hyde  with  a  capstan-bar, 

21  319 


MARK     TWAIN 

and  one  for  killing  a  roustabout  for  refusing  to  heave 
the  lead,  which  is  no  part  of  a  roustabout's  business. 
He  is  a  spy,  and  was  sent  here  by  the  Colonel  to  act 
in  that  capacity.  He  was  third  mate  of  the  St. 
Nicholas  when  she  blew  up  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Memphis,  in  '58,  and  came  near  being  lynched  for 
robbing  the  dead  and  wounded  while  they  were  being 
taken  ashore  in  an  empty  wood-boat." 

And  so  forth  and  so  on — he  gave  the  man's  bi- 
ography in  full.  When  he  had  finished,  I  said  to 
the  man: 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  this?" 

"Barring  your  presence,  sir,  it  is  the  infernalist  lie 
that  ever  was  spoke!" 

I  sent  him  back  into  confinement,  and  called  the 
others  forward  in  turn.  Same  result.  The  boy  gave 
a  detailed  history  of  each,  without  ever  hesitating  for 
a  word  or  a  fact;  but  all  I  could  get  out  of  either 
rascal  was  the  indignant  assertion  that  it  was  all  a 
lie.  They  would  confess  nothing.  I  returned  them 
to  captivity,  and  brought  out  the  rest  of  my  prisoners, 
one  by  one.  Wicklow  told  all  about  them — what 
towns  in  the  South  they  were  from,  and  every  detail 
of  their  connection  with  the  conspiracy. 

But  they  all  denied  his  facts,  and  not  one  of  them 
confessed  a  thing.  The  men  raged,  the  women  cried. 
According  to  their  stories,  they  were  all  innocent 
people  from  out  West,  and  loved  the  Union  above 
all  things  in  this  world.  I  locked  the  gang  up,  in 
disgust,  and  fell  to  catechizing  Wicklow  once  more. 

"Where  is  No.  166,  and  who  is  B.  B.?" 

But  there  he  was  determined  to  draw  the  line. 
32- 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

Neither  coaxing  nor  threats  had  any  effect  upon  him, 
Time  was  flying — it  was  necessary  to  institute  sharp 
measures.  So  I  tied  him  up  a-tiptoe  by  the  thumbs, 
As  the  pain  increased,  it  wrung  screams  from  him 
which  were  almost  more  than  I  could  bear.  But  I 
held  my  ground,  and  pretty  soon  he  shrieked  out: 

"Oh,  please  let  me  down,  and  I  will  tell!" 

"No — you'll  tell  before  I  let  you  down." 

Every  instant  was  agony  to  him  now,  so  out  it 
came: 

"No.  1 66,  Eagle  Hotel!" — naming  a  wretched 
tavern  down  by  the  water,  a  resort  of  common 
laborers,  'longshoremen,  and  less  reputable  folk. 

So  I  released  him,  and  then  demanded  to  know  the 
object  of  the  conspiracy. 

"To  take  the  fort  to-night,"  said  he,  doggedly  and 
sobbing. 

"Have  I  got  all  the  chiefs  of  the  conspiracy?" 

"No.  You've  got  all  except  those  that  are  to 
meet  at  166." 

"What  does  'Remember  XXXX'  mean?" 

No  reply. 

"What  is  the  password  to  No.  166?" 

No  reply. 

"What  do  those  bunches  of  letters  mean  — 
'  FFFFF '  and  '  MMMM '  ?  Answer !  or  you  will  catch 
it  again." 

"I  never  will  answer!  I  will  die  first.  Now  do 
what  you  please." 

' '  Think  what  you  are  saying,  Wicklow.   Is  it  final  ?' ' 

He  answered  steadily,  and  without  a  quiver  in  his 
voice : 

321 


MARK    TWAIN 

"It  is  final.  As  sure  as  I  love  my  wronged  country 
and  hate  everything  this  Northern  sun  shines  on,  I 
will  die  before  I  will  reveal  those  things." 

I  tied  him  up  by  the  thumbs  again.  When  the 
agony  was  full  upon  him  it  was  heartbreaking  to 
hear  the  poor  thing's  shrieks,  but  we  got  nothing  else 
out  of  him.  To  every  question  he  screamed  the  same 
reply:  "I  can  die,  and  I  will  die;  but  I  will  never  tell." 

Well,  we  had  to  give  it  up.  We  were  convinced 
that  he  certainly  would  die  rather  than  confess.  So 
we  took  him  down,  and  imprisoned  him  under  strict 
guard. 

Then  for  some  hours  we  busied  ourselves  with 
sending  telegrams  to  the  War  Department,  and  with 
making  preparations  for  a  descent  upon  No.  166. 

It  was  stirring  times,  that  black  and  bitter  night. 
Things'  had  leaked  out,  and  the  whole  garrison  was 
on  the  alert.  The  sentinels  were  trebled,  and  nobody 
could  move,  outside  or  in,  without  being  brought  to 
a  stand  with  a  musket  leveled  at  his  head.  However, 
Webb  and  I  were  less  concerned  now  than  we  had 
previously  been,  because  of  the  fact  that  the  con- 
spiracy must  necessarily  be  in  a  pretty  crippled  con- 
dition, since  so  many  of  its  principals  were  in  our 
clutches. 

I  determined  to  be  at  No.  166  in  good  season, 
capture  and  gag  B.  B.,  and  be  on  hand  for  the  rest 
when  they  arrived.  At  about  a  quarter  past  one  in 
the  morning  I  crept  out  of  the  fortress  with  half  a 
dozen  stalwart  and  gamy  U.  S.  regulars  at  my  heels, 
and  the  boy  Wicklow,  with  his  hands  tied  behind 
him.  I  told  him  we  were  going  to  No.  166,  and  that 

322 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

if  I  found  he  had  lied  again  and  was  misleading  us, 
he  would  have  to  show  us  the  right  place  or  suffer 
the  consequences. 

We  approached  the  tavern  stealthily  and  recon- 
noitered.  A  light  was  burning  in  the  small  bar- 
room, the  rest  of  the  house  was  dark.  I  tried  the 
front  door;  it  yielded,  and  we  softly  entered,  closing 
the  door  behind  us.  Then  we  removed  our  shoes,  and 
I  led  the  way  to  the  barroom.  The  German  landlord 
sat  there,  asleep  in  his  chair.  I  woke  him  gently,  and 
told  him  to  take  off  his  boots  and  precede  us,  warning 
him  at  the  same  time  to  utter  no  sound.  He  obeyed 
without  a  murmur,  but  evidently  he  was  badly 
frightened.  I  ordered  him  to  lead  the  way  to  166. 
We  ascended  two  or  three  flights  of  stairs  as  softly 
as  a  file  of  cats;  and  then,  having  arrived  near  the 
farther  end  of  a  long  hall,  we  came  to  a  door  through 
the  glazed  transom  of  which  wre  could  discern  the 
glow  of  a  dim  light  from  within.  The  landlord  felt 
for  me  in  the  dark  and  whispered  me  that  that  was 
1 66.  I  tried  the  door — it  was  locked  on  the  inside. 
I  whispered  an  order  to  one  of  my  biggest  soldiers; 
we  set  our  ample  shoulders  to  the  door,  and  with  one 
heave  we  burst  it  from  its  hinges.  I  caught  a  half- 
glimpse  of  a  figure  in  a  bed — saw  its  head  dart 
toward  the  candle;  out  went  the  light  and  we  were 
in  pitch  darkness.  With  one  big  bound  I  lit  on  that 
bed  and  pinned  its  occupant  down  with  my  knees. 
My  prisoner  struggled  fiercely,  but  I  got  a  grip  on 
his  throat  with  my  left  hand,  and  that  was  a  good 
assistance  to  my  knees  in  holding  him  down.  Then 
straightway  I  snatched  out  my  revolver,  cocked  it, 

323 


MARK    TWAIN 

and  laid    the    cold    barrel    warningly   against   his 
cheek. 

' ' Now  somebody  strike  a  light !"  said  I.  "I've  got 
him  safe." 

It  was  done.  The  flame  of  the  match  burst  up. 
I  looked  at  my  captive,  and,  by  George,  it  was  a 
young  woman! 

I  let  go  and  got  off  the  bed,  feeling  pretty  sheepish. 
Everybody  stared  stupidly  at  his  neighbor.  Nobody 
had  any  wit  or  sense  left,  so  sudden  and  overwhelm- 
ing had  been  the  surprise.  The  young  woman  began 
to  cry,  and  covered  her  face  with  the  sheet.  The 
landlord  said,  meekly: 

'  ' '  My  daughter,  she  has  been  doing  something  that 
is  not  right,  nicht  wahr?" 

"Your  daughter?     Is  she  your  daughter?" 

"Oh,  yes,  she  is  my  daughter.  She  is  just  to-night 
come  home  from  Cincinnati  a  little  bit  sick." 

"Confound  it,  that  boy  has  lied  again.  This  is 
not  the  right  166;  this  is  not  B.  B.  Now,  Wicklow, 
you  will  find  the  correct  166  for  us,  or — hello!  where 
is  that  boy?" 

Gone,  as  sure  as  guns!  And,  what  is  more,  we 
failed  to  find  a  trace  of  him.  Here  was  an  awful 
predicament.  I  cursed  my  stupidity  in  not  tying  him 
to  one  of  the  men;  but  it  was  of  no  use  to  bother 
about  that  now.  What  should  I  do  in  the  present 
circumstances? — that  was  the  question.  That  girl 
might  be  B.  B.,  after  all.  I  did  not  believe  it,  but 
still  it  would  not  answer  to  take  unbelief  for  proof. 
So  I  finally  put  my  men  in  a  vacant  room  across  the 
hall  from  166,  and  told  them  to  capture  anybody  and 

324 


A   CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

everybody  that  approached  the  girl's  room,  and  to 
keep  the  landlord  with  them,  and  under  strict  watch, 
until  further  orders.  Then  I  hurried  back  to  the 
fort  to  see  if  all  was  right  there  yet. 

Yes,  all  was  right.  And  all  remained  right.  I 
stayed  up  all  night  to  make  sure  of  that.  Nothing 
happened.  I  was  unspeakably  glad  to  see  the  dawn 
come  again,  and  be  able  to  telegraph  the  Department 
that  the  Stars  and  Stripes  still  floated  over  Fort 
Trumbull. 

An  immense  pressure  was  lifted  from  my  breast. 
Still  I  did  not  relax  vigilance,  of  course,  nor  effort, 
either;  the  case  was  too  grave  for  that.  I  had  up 
my  prisoners,  one  by  one,  and  harried  them  by  the 
hour,  trying  to  get  them  to  confess,  but  it  was  a 
failure.  They  only  gnashed  their  teeth  and  tore 
their  hair,  and  revealed  nothing. 

About  noon  came  tidings  of  my  missing  boy.  He 
had  been  seen  on  the  road,  tramping  westward, 
some  eight  miles  out,  at  six  in  the  morning.  I 
started  a  cavalry  lieutenant  and  a  private  on  his 
track  at  once.  They  came  in  sight  of  him  twenty 
miles  out.  He  had  climbed  a  fence  and  was  wearily 
dragging  himself  across  a  slushy  field  toward  a  large 
old-fashioned  mansion  in  the  edge  of  a  village.  They 
rode  through  a  bit  of  woods,  made  a  detour,  and 
closed  upon  the  house  from  the  opposite  side;  then 
dismounted  and  skurried  into  the  kitchen.  Nobody 
there.  They  slipped  into  the  next  room,  which  was 
also  unoccupied;  the  door  from  that  room  into  the 
front  or  sitting  room  was  open.  They  were  about 
to  step  through  it  when  they  heard  a  low  voice;  it 

325 


MARK    TWAIN 

was  somebody  praying.  So  they  halted  reverently, 
and  the  lieutenant  put  his  head  in  and  saw  an  old 
man  and  an  old  woman  kneeling  in  a  corner  of  that 
sitting-room.  It  was  the  old  man  that  was  praying, 
and  just  as  he  was  finishing  his  prayer,  the  Wicklow 
boy  opened  the  front  door  and  stepped  in.  Both 
of  those  old  people  sprang  at  him  and  smothered  him 
with  embraces,  shouting: 

"Our  boy!  our  darling!  God  be  praised.  The 
lost  is  found!  He  that  was  dead  is  alive  again!" 

Well,  sir,  what  do  you  think !  That  young  imp 
was  born  and  reared  on  that  homestead,  and  had 
never  been  five  miles  away  from  it  in  all  his  life  till 
the  fortnight  before  he  loafed  into  my  quarters  and 
gulled  me  with  that  maudlin  yarn  of  his!  It's  as 
true  as  gospel.  That  old  man  was  his  father — a 
learned  old  retired  clergyman ;  and  that  old  lady  was 
his  mother. 

Let  me  throw  in  a  word  or  two  of  explanation  con- 
cerning that  boy  and  his  performances.  It  turned 
out  that  he  was  a  ravenous  devourer  of  dime  novels 
and  sensation-story  papers — therefore,  dark  myster- 
ies and  gaudy  heroisms  were  just  in  his  line.  Then 
he  had  read  newspaper  reports  of  the  stealthy  goings 
and  comings  of  rebel  spies  in  our  midst,  and  of  their 
lurid  purposes  and  their  two  or  three  startling 
achievements,  till  his  imagination  was  all  aflame  on 
that  subject.  His  constant  comrade  for  some  months 
had  been  a  Yankee  youth  of  much  tongue  and  lively 
fancy,  who  had  served  for  a  couple  of  years  as  "mud 
clerk"  (that  is,  subordinate  purser)  on  certain  of  the 
packet-boats  plying  between  New  Orleans  and  points 

326 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE 

two  or  three  hundred  miles  up  the  Mississippi — hence 
his  easy  facility  in  handling  the  names  and  other 
details  pertaining  to  that  region.  Now  I  had  spent 
two  or  three  months  in  that  part  of  the  country 
before  the  war;  and  I  knew  just  enough  about  it 
to  be  easily  taken  in  by  that  boy,  whereas  a  born 
Louisianian  would  probably  have  caught  him  trip- 
ping before  he  had  talked  fifteen  minutes.  Do  you 
know  the  reason  he  said  he  would  rather  die  than 
explain  certain  of  his  treasonable  enigmas?  Simply 
because  he  couldn't  explain  them! — they  had  no 
meaning;  he  had  fired  them  out  of  his  imagination 
without  forethought  or  afterthought;  and  so,  upon 
sudden  call,  he  wasn't  able  to  invent  an  explanation 
of  them.  For  instance,  he  couldn't  reveal  what  was 
hidden  in  the  "sympathetic  ink"  letter,  for  the 
ample  reason  that  there  wasn't  anything  hidden  in 
it;  it  was  blank  paper  only.  He  hadn't  put  anything 
into  a  gun,  and  had  never  intended  to — for  his  letters 
were  all  written  to  imaginary  persons,  and  when  he 
hid  one  in  the  stable  he  always  removed  the  one  he 
had  put  there  the  day  before;  so  he  was  not  ac- 
quainted with  that  knotted  string,  since  he  was 
seeing  it  for  the  first  time  when  I  showed  it  to  him; 
but  as  soon  as  I  had  let  him  find  out  where  it  came 
from,  he  straightway  adopted  it,  in  his  romantic 
fashion,  and  got  some  fine  effects  out  of  it.  He  in- 
vented Mfr.  "Gaylord";  there  wasn't  any  15  Bond 
Street,  just  then — it  had  been  pulled  down  three 
months  before.  He  invented  the  "Colonel";  he  in- 
vented the  glib  histories  of  those  unfortunates  whom 
I  captured  and  confronted  him  with;  he  invented 

32? 


MARK     TWAIN 

"B.  B.";  he  even  invented  No.  166,  one  may  say, 
for  he  didn't  know  there  was  such  a  number  in  the 
Eagle  Hotel  until  we  went  there.  He  stood  ready  to 
invent  anybody  or  anything  whenever  it  was  want- 
ed. If  I  called  for  "outside"  spies,  he  promptly  de- 
scribed strangers  whom  he  had  seen  at  the  hotel,  and 
whose  names  he  had  happened  to  hear.  Ah,  he 
lived  in  a  gorgeous,  mysterious,  romantic  world 
during  those  few  stirring  days,  and  I  think  it  was 
real  to  him,  and  that  he  enjoyed  it  clear  down  to  the 
bottom  of  his  heart. 

But  he  made  trouble  enough  for  us,  and  just  no 
end  of  humiliation.  You  see,  on  account  of  him  we 
had  fifteen  or  twenty  people  under  arrest  and  con- 
finement in  the  fort,  with  sentinels  before  their  doors. 
A  lot  of  the  captives  were  soldiers  and  such,  and  to 
them  I  didn't  have  to  apologize;  but  the  rest  were 
first-class  citizens,  from  all  over  the  country,  and  no 
amount  of  apologies  was  sufficient  to  satisfy  them. 
They  just  fumed  and  raged  and  made  no  end  of 
trouble!  And  those  two  ladies — one  was  an  Ohio 
Congressman's  wife,  the  other  a  Western  bishop's 
sister — well,  the  scorn  and  ridicule  and  angry  tears 
they  poured  out  on  me  made  up  a  keepsake  that  was 
likely  to  make  me  remember  them  for  a  considerable 
time — and  I  shall.  That  old  lame  gentleman  with 
the  goggles  was  a  college  president  from  Philadelphia, 
who  had  come  up  to  attend  his  nephew's  funeral. 
He  had  never  seen  young  Wicklow  before,  of  course. 
Well,  he  not  only  missed  the  funeral,  and  got  jailed 
as  a  rebel  spy,  but  Wicklow  had  stood  up  there  in 
my  quarters  and  coldly  described  him  as  a  counter- 

328 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE 

feiter,  nigger-trader,  horse-thief,  and  firebug  from  the 
most  notorious  rascal-nest  in  Galveston;  and  this 
was  a  thing  which  that  poor  old  gentleman  couldn't 
seem  to  get  over  at  all. 

And  the  War  Department !  But,  oh,  my  soul,  let's 
draw  the  curtain  over  that  part! 

NOTE. — I  showed  my  manuscript  to  the  Major,  and  he  said: 
"Your  unfamiliarity  with  military  matters  has  betrayed  you  into 
some  little  mistakes.  Still,  they  are  picturesque  ones — let  them 
go;  military  men  will  smile  at  them,  the  rest  won't  detect  them. 
You  have  got  the  main  facts  of  the  history  right,  and  have  set  them 
down  just  about  as  they  occurred." — M.  T. 


MRS.   McWILLIAMS   AND   THE 
LIGHTNING 

WELL,  sir — continued  Mr.  Me  Williams,  for  this 
was  not  the  beginning  of  his  talk — the  fear  of 
lightning  is  one  of  the  most  distressing  infirmities  a 
human  being  can  be  afflicted  with.  It  is  mostly 
confined  to  women;  but  now  and  then  you  find  it  in  a 
little  dog,  and  sometimes  in  a  man.  It  is  a  particu- 
larly distressing  infirmity,  for  the  reason  that  it  takes 
the  sand  out  of  a  person  to  an  extent  which  no  other 
fear  can,  and  it  can't  be  reasoned  with,  and  neither 
can  it  be  shamed  out  of  a  person.  A  woman  who 
could  face  the  very  devil  himself — or  a  mouse — loses 
her  grip  and  goes  all  to  pieces  in  front  of  a  flash  of 
lightning.  Her  fright  is  something  pitiful  to  see. 

Well,  as  I  was  telling  you,  I  woke  up,  with  that 
smothered  and  unlocatable  cry  of  "Mortimer! 
Mortimer!"  wailing  in  my  ears;  and  as  soon  as  I 
could  scrape  my  faculties  together  I  reached  over  in 
the  dark  and  then  said: 

"Evangeline,  is  that  you  calling?  What  is  the 
matter?  Where  are  you?" 

"Shut  up  in  the  boot-closet.  You  ought  to  be 
ashamed  to  lie  there  and  sleep  so,  and  such  an  awful 
storm  going  on." 

"Why,  how  can  one  be  ashamed  when  he  is  asleep? 
33° 


MRS.    McWILLIAMS 

It  is  unreasonable;  a  man  can't  be  ashamed  when  he 
is  asleep,  Evangeline." 

"You  never  try,  Mortimer — you  know  very  well 
you  never  try." 

I  caught  the  sound  of  muffled  sobs. 

That  sound  smote  dead  the  sharp  speech  that  was 
on  my  lips,  and  I  changed  it  to — 

"I'm  sorry,  dear — I'm  truly  sorry.  I  never  meant 
to  act  so.  Come  back  and — " 

"MORTIMER!" 

"Heavens!  what  is  the  matter,  my  love?" 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  are  in  that  bed  yet?" 

"Why,  of  course." 

"Come  out  of  it  instantly.  I  should  think  you 
would  take  some  little  care  of  your  life,  for  my  sake 
and  the  children's,  if  you  will  not  for  your  own." 

"But,  my  love — " 

"Don't  talk  to  me,  Mortimer.  You  know  there  is 
no  place  so  dangerous  as  a  bed  in  such  a  thunder- 
storm as  this — all  the  books  say  that;  yet  there  you 
would  lie,  and  deliberately  throw  away  your  life — 
for  goodness  knows  what,  unless  for  the  sake  of 
arguing,  and  arguing,  and — " 

"But,  confound  it,  Evangeline,  I'm  not  in  the  bed 
now.  I'm — " 

[Sentence  interrupted  by  a  sudden  glare  of  light- 
ning, followed  by  a  terrified  little  scream  from  Mrs. 
McWilliams  and  a  tremendous  blast  of  thunder.] 

"There!  You  see  the  result.  Oh,  Mortimer,  how 
can  you  be  so  profligate  as  to  swear  at  such  a  time 
as  this?" 

"I  didn't  swear.    And  that  wasn't  a  result  of  it, 


MARK     TWAIN 

anyway.  It  would  have  come,  just  the  same,  if  I 
hadn't  said  a  word;  and  you  know  very  well,  Evan- 
geline — at  least,  you  ought  to  know — that  when  the 
atmosphere  is  charged  with  electricity — " 

"Oh,  yes;  now  argue  it,  and  argue  it,  and  argue 
it ! — I  don't  see  how  you  can  act  so,  when  you  know 
there  is  not  a  lightning-rod  on  the  place,  and  your 
poor  wife  and  children  are  absolutely  at  the  mercy  of 
Providence.  What  are  you  doing? — lighting  a  match 
at  such  a  time  as  this!  Are  you  stark  mad?" 

"Hang  it,  woman,  where's  the  harm?  The  place  is 
as  dark  as  the  inside  of  an  infidel,  and — " 

"Put  it  out!  put  it  out  instantly!  Are  you  deter- 
mined to  sacrifice  us  all  ?  You  know  there  is  nothing 
attracts  lightning  like  a  light.  [Fzt! — crash!  boom — 
boloom-boom-boom!  ]  Oh,  just  hear  it !  Now  you 
see  what  you've  done!" 

"No,  I  don't  see  what  I've  done.  A  match  may 
attract  lightning,  for  all  I  know,  but  it  don't  cause 
lightning — I'll  go  odds  on  that.  And  it  didn't  at- 
tract it  worth  a  cent  this  time;  for  if  that  shot  was 
leveled  at  my  match,  it  was  blessed  poor  marksman- 
ship— about  an  average  of  none  out  of  a  possible 
million,  I  should  say.  Why,  at  Dollymount  such 
marksmanship  as  that — " 

"For  shame,  Mortimer!  Here  we  are  standing 
right  in  the  very  presence  of  death,  and  yet  in  so 
solemn  a  moment  you  are  capable  of  using  such 
language  as  that.  If  you  have  no  desire  to — Morti- 
mer!" 

"Well?" 

"Did  you  say  your  prayers  to-nigh* ?'" 
332 


MRS.   McWILLIAMS 

"I — I — meant  to,  but  I  got  to  trying  to  cipher  out 
how  much  twelve  times  thirteen  is,  and — " 

[Fzt!  —  boom  -  berroom  -  boom!  bumble  -  umble  bang- 

SMASH !] 

"Oh,  we  are  lost,  beyond  all  help!  How  could  you 
neglect  such  a  thing  at  such  a  time  as  this?" 

"But  it  wasn't  'such  a  time  as  this.'  There 
wasn't  a  cloud  in  the  sky.  How  could  /  know  there 
was  going  to  be  all  this  rumpus  and  pow-wow  about 
a  little  slip  like  that?  And  I  don't  think  it's  just 
fair  for  you  to  make  so  much  out  of  it,  anyway,  seeing 
it  happens  so  seldom;  I  haven't  missed  before  since 
I  brought  on  that  earthquake,  four  years  ago." 

' '  MORTIMER  !  How  you  talk !  Have  you  forgotten 
the  yellow-fever?" 

"My  dear,  you  are  always  throwing  up  the  yellow- 
fever  to  me,  and  I  think  it  is  perfectly  unreasonable. 
You  can't  even  send  a  telegraphic  message  as  far  as 
Memphis  without  relays,  so  how  is  a  little  devotional 
slip  of  mine  going  to  carry  so  far?  I'll  stand  the 
Earthquake,  because  it  was  in  the  neighborhood ;  but 
I'll  be  hanged  if  I'm  going  to  be  responsible  for  every 
blamed—" 

[Fzt! — BOOM  beroom-booml  boom. — BANG!] 

"Oh,  dear,  dear,  dear !  I  know  it  struck  something, 
Mortimer.  We  never  shall  see  the  light  of  another 
day;  and  if  it  will  do  you  any  good  to  remember, 
when  we  are  gone,  that  your  dreadful  language — 
Mortimer!" 

"WELL!    What  now?" 

"Your  voice  sounds  as  if —  Mortimer,  are  you 
actually  standing  in  front  of  that  open  fireplace?" 

333 


MARK    TWAIN 

"That  is  the  very  crime  I  am  committing." 

"Get  away  from  it  this  moment!  You  do  seem 
determined  to  bring  destruction  on  us  all.  Don't 
you  know  that  there  is  no  better  conductor  for  light- 
ning than  an  open  chimney?  Now  where  have  you 
got  to?" 

"I'm  here  by  the  window." 

"Oh,  for  pity's  sake!  have  you  lost  your  mind? 
Clear  out  from  there,  this  moment!  The  very  chil- 
dren in  arms  know  it  is  fatal  to  stand  near  a  window 
in  a  thunder-storm.  Dear,  dear,  I  know  I  shall 
never  see  the  light  of  another  day!  Mortimer!" 

"Yes." 

"What  is  that  rustling?" 

"It's  me." 

"What  are  you  doing?" 

"Trying  to  find  the  upper  end  of  my  pantaloons." 

"Quick!  throw  those  things  away!  I  do  believe 
you  would  deliberately  put  on  those  clothes  at  such 
a  time  as  this;  yet  you  know  perfectly  well  that  all 
authorities  agree  that  woolen  stuffs  attract  lightning. 
Oh,  dear,  dear,  it  isn't  sufficient  that  one's  life  must 
be  in  peril  from  natural  causes,  but  you  must  do 
everything  you  can  possibly  think  of  to  augment  the 
danger.  Oh,  don't  sing!  What  can  you  be  think- 
ing of?" 

"Now  where's  the  harm  in  it?" 

"Mortimer,  if  I  have  told  you  once,  I  have  told 
you  a  hundred  times,  that  singing  causes  vibrations 
in  the  atmosphere  which  interrupt  the  flow  of  the 
electric  fluid,  and —  What  on  earth  are  you  opening 
that  door  for?" 

334 


MRS.    McWILLIAMS 

"Goodness  gracious,  woman,  is  there  any  harm 
mtitatt" 

"Harm?  There's  death  in  it.  Anybody  that  has 
given  this  subject  any  attention  knows  that  to  create 
a  draught  is  to  invite  the  lightning.  You  haven't 
half  shut  it ;  shut  it  tight — and  do  hurry,  or  we  are  all 
destroyed.  Oh,  it  is  an  awful  thing  to  be  shut  up 
with  a  lunatic  at  such  a  time  as  this.  Mortimer, 
what  are  you  doing?" 

"Nothing.  Just  turning  on  the  water.  This  room 
is  smothering  hot  and  close.  I  want  to  bathe  my 
face  and  hands." 

"You  have  certainly  parted  with  the  remnant  of 
your  mind!  Where  lightning  strikes  any  other  sub- 
stance once,  it  strikes  water  fifty  times.  Do  turn 
it  off.  Oh,  dear,  I  am  sure  that  nothing  in  this 
world  can  save  us.  It  does  seem  to  me  that — 
Mortimer,  what  was  that?" 

"It  was  a  da — it  was  a  picture.  Knocked  it 
down." 

"Then  you  are  close  to  the  wall!  I  never  heard 
of  such  imprudence!  Don't  you  know  that  there's 
no  better  conductor  for  lightning  than  a  wall?  Come 
away  from  there !  And  you  came  as  near  as  anything 
to  swearing,  too.  Oh,  how  can  you  be  so  desper- 
ately wicked,  and  your  family  in  such  peril?  Mor- 
timer, did  you  order  a  feather  bed,  as  I  asked  you 
to  do?" 

"No.    Forgot  it." 

"Forgot  it!  It  may  cost  you  your  life.  If  you 
had  a  feather  bed  now,  and  could  spread  it  in  the 
middle  of  the  room  and  lie  on  it,  you  would  be  per- 

22  335 


MARK    TWAIN 

fectly  safe.  Come  in  here — come  quick,  before  you 
have  a  chance  to  commit  any  more  frantic  indis- 
cretions." 

I  tried,  but  the  little  closet  would  not  hold  us 
both  with  the  door  shut,  unless  we  could  be  content 
to  smother.  I  gasped  awhile,  then  forced  my  way 
out.  My  wife  called  out: 

"Mortimer,  something  must  be  done  for  your 
preservation.  Give  me  that  German  book  that  is 
on  the  end  of  the  mantelpiece,  and  a  candle;  but 
don't  light  it;  give  me  a  match;  I  will  light  it  in  here, 
i That  book  has  some  directions  in  it." 

I  got  the  book — at  cost  of  a  vase  and  some  other 
brittle  things;  and  the  madam  shut  herself  up  with 
her  candle.  I  had  a  moment's  peace;  then  she 
called  out : 

"Mortimer,  what  was  that?" 

"Nothing  but  the  cat." 

"The  cat!  Oh,  destruction!  Catch  her,  and  shut 
her  up  in  the  washstand.  Do  be  quick,  love ;  cats  are 
full  of  electricity.  I  just  know  my  hair  will  turn 
white  with  this  night's  awful  perils." 

I  heard  the  muffled  sobbings  again.  But  for  that, 
I  should  not  have  moved  hand  or  foot  in  such  a 
wild  enterprise  in  the  dark. 

However,  I  went  at  my  task — over  chairs,  and 
against  all  sorts  of  obstructions,  all  of  them  hard 
ones,  too,  and  most  of  them  with  sharp  edges — and 
at  last  I  got  kitty  cooped  up  in  the  commode,  at  an 
expense  of  over  four  hundred  dollars  in  broken  furni- 
ture and  shins.  Then  these  muffled  words  came  from 
the  closet: 

336 


MRS.    McWILLIAMS 

"It  says  the  safest  thing  is  to  stand  on  a  chair 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  Mortimer;  and  the  legs 
of  the  chair  must  be  insulated  with  non-conductors. 
That  is,  you  must  set  the  legs  of  the  chair  in  glass 
tumblers.  [Fzt! — boom — bang! — smash!  ]  Oh,  hear 
that!  Do  hurry,  Mortimer,  before  you  are  struck." 

I  managed  to  find  and  secure  the  tumblers.  I  got 
the  last  four — broke  all  the  rest.  I  insulated  the 
chair  legs,  and  called  for  further  instructions. 

"Mortimer,  it  says,  'Wahrend  eines  Gewitters 
entferne  man  Metalle,  wie  z.  B.,  Ringe,  Uhren, 
Schlussel,  etc.,  von  sich  und  halte  sich  auch  nicht 
an  solchen  Stellen  auf ,  wo  viele  Metalle  bei  einander 
liegen,  oder  mit  andern  Korpern  verbunden  sind,  wie 
an  Herden,  Oefen,  Eisengittern  u.  dgl.'  What  does 
that  mean,  Mortimer?  Does  it  mean  that  you 
must  keep  metals  about  you,  or  keep  them  away 
from  you?" 

"Well,  I  hardly  know.  It  appears  to  be  a  little 
mixed.  All  German  advice  is  more  or  less  mixed. 
However,  I  think  that  that  sentence  is  mostly  in  the 
dative  case,  with  a  little  genitive  and  accusative 
sifted  in,  here  and  there,  for  luck;  so  I  reckon  it 
means  that  you  must  keep  some  metals  about  you." 

"Yes,  that  must  be  it.  It  stands  to  reason  that 
it  is.  They  are  in  the  nature  of  lightning-rods,  you 
know.  Put  on  your  fireman's  helmet,  Mortimer; 
that  is  mostly  metal." 

I  got  it,  and  put  it  on — a  very  heavy  and  clumsy 
and  uncomfortable  thing  on  a  hot  night  in  a  close 
room.  Even  my  night-dress  seemed  to  be  more 
clothing  than  I  strictly  needed. 

337 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Mortimer,  I  think  your  middle  ought  to  be  pro- 
tected. Won't  you  buckle  on  your  militia  saber, 
please?'* 

I  complied. 

"Now,  Mortimer,  you  ought  to  have  some  way  to 
protect  your  feet.  Do  please  put  on  your  spurs." 

I  did  it — in  silence — and  kept  my  temper  as  well 
as  I  could. 

"Mortimer,  it  says,  'Das  Gewitter  lauten  ist  sehr 
gefahrlich,  weil  die  Glocke  selbst,  sowie  der  durch 
das  Lauten  veranlasste  Luftzug  und  die  Hohe  des 
Thurmes  den  Blitz  anziehen  konnten.'  Mortimer, 
does  that  mean  that  it  is  dangerous  not  to  ring  the 
church  bells  during  a  thunder-storm?" 

"Yes,  it  seems  to  mean  that — if  that  is  the  past 
participle  of  the  nominative  case  singular,  and  I 
reckon  it  is.  Yes,  I  think  it  means  that  on  account 
of  the  height  of  the  church  tower  and  the  absence  of 
Luftzug  it  would  be  very  dangerous  (sehr  gefahrlich) 
not  to  ring  the  bells  in  time  of  a  storm ;  and,  moreover, 
don't  you  see,  the  very  wording — " 

"Never  mind  that,  Mortimer;  don't  waste  the 
precious  time  in  talk.  Get  the  large  dinner-bell;  it 
it  right  there  in  the  hall.  Quick,  Mortimer,  dear; 
we  are  almost  safe.  Oh,  dear,  I  do  believe  we  are 
going  to  be  saved,  at  last!" 

Our  little  summer  establishment  stands  on  top 
of  a  high  range  of  hills,  overlooking  a  valley.  Several 
farm-houses  are  in  our  neighborhood — the  nearest 
some  three  or  four  hundred  yards  away. 

When  I,  mounted  on  the  chair,  had  been  clanging 
that  dreadful  bell  a  matter  of  seven  or  eight  minutes, 

338 


"  WHAT    IS    THE    MATTER    HERE  ? " 


MRS.    McWILLIAMS 

our  shutters  were  suddenly  torn  open  from  without, 
and  a  brilliant  bull's-eye  lantern  was  thrust  in  at  the 
window,  followed  by  a  hoarse  inquiry: 

"What  in  the  nation  is  the  matter  here?" 

The  window  was  full  of  men's  heads,  and  the  heads 
were  full  of  eyes  that  stared  wildly  at  my  night-dress 
and  my  warlike  accoutrements. 

I  dropped  the  bell,  skipped  down  from  the  chair 
in  confusion,  and  said: 

"There  is  nothing  the  matter,  friends — only  a 
little  discomfort  on  account  of  the  thunder-storm.  I 
was  trying  to  keep  off  the  lightning." 

"Thunder-storm?  Lightning?  Why,  Mr.  Mc- 
Williams,  have  you  lost  your  mind?  It  is  a  beautiful 
starlight  night;  there  has  been  no  storm." 

I  looked  out,  and  I  was  so  astonished  I  could 
hardly  speak  for  a  while.  Then  I  said: 

"I  do  not  understand  this.  We  distinctly  saw  the 
glow  of  the  flashes  through  the  curtains  and  shutters, 
and  heard  the  thunder." 

One  after  another  of  those  people  lay  down  on  the 
ground  to  laugh — and  two  of  them  died.  One  of  the 
survivors  remarked : 

"Pity  you  didn't  think  to  open  your  blinds  and 
look  over  to  the  top  of  the  high  hill  yonder.  What 
you  heard  was  cannon;  what  you  saw  was  the  flash. 
You  see,  the  telegraph  brought  some  news,  just  at 
midnight;  Garfield's  nominated — and  that's  what'a 
the  matter!" 

Yes,  Mr.  Twain,  as  I  was  saying  in  the  beginning 
(said  Mr.  McWilliams),  the  rules  for  preserving 
people  against  lightning  are  so  excellent  and  so 

339 


MARK    TWAIN 

innumerable  that  the  most  incomprehensible  thing 
in  the  world  to  me  is  how  anybody  ever  manages  to 
get  struck. 

So  saying,  he  gathered  up  his  satchel  and  umbrella, 
and  departed;  for  the  train  had  reached  his  town. 


MEISTERSCHAFT:   IN  THREE  ACTS1 

DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

MR.  STEPHENSON  MARGARET  STEPHENSON 

GEORGE  FRANKLIN  ANNIE  STEPHENSON 

WILLIAM  JACKSON  MRS.  BLUMENTHAL,  the  Wirthin. 

GRETCHEN,  Kellnerin 

ACT  I 

SCENE  I 

Scene  of  the  play,  the  parlor  of  a  small  private  dwelling  in 
a  village. 

(Margaret  discovered  crocheting — has  a  pamphlet.) 

MiVRGARET.     (Solus.)    Dear,  dear!  it's  dreary 
enough,   to   have   to  study  this  impossible 
German  tongue:  to  be  exiled  from  home  and  all 
human  society  except  a  body's  sister  in  order  to  do 
it  is  just   simply  abscheulich.     Here's   only  three 

I1  EXPLANATORY.  I  regard  the  idea  of  this  play  as  a  valuable 
invention.  I  call  it  the  Patent  Universally-Applicable  Auto- 
matically-Adjustable Language  Drama.  This  indicates  that  it  is 
adjustable  to  any  tongue,  and  performable  in  any  tongue.  The 
English  portions  of  the  play  are  to  remain  just  as  they  are,  perma- 
nently; but  you  change  the  foreign  portions  to  any  language  you 
please,  at  will.  Do  you  see?  You  at  once  have  the  same  old  play 
in  a  new  tongue.  And  you  can  keep  on  changing  it  from  language 
to  language,  until  your  private-theatrical  pupils  have  become  glib 
and  at  home  in  the  speech  of  all  nations.  Zum  Beispiel,  suppose  we 

341 


MARK     TWAIN 

weeks  of  the  three  months  gone  and  it  seems  like  three 
years.  I  don't  believe  I  can  live  through  it,  and  I'm 
sure  Annie  can't.  (Refers  to  her  book,  and  rattles 
through,  several  times,  like  one  memorizing:}  Ent- 
schuldigen  Sie,  mein  Herr,  konnen  Sie  mir  vielleicht 
sagen,  um  wie  viel  Uhr  der  erste  Zug  nach  Dresden 
abgeht?  (Makes  mistakes  and  corrects  them,}  I  just 
hate  Meisterschaf t !  We  may  see  people;  we  can 
have  society;  yes,  on  condition  that  the  conversation 
shall  be  in  German,  and  in  German  only — every 


wish  to  adjust  the  play  to  the  French  tongue.  First,  we  give  Mrs. 
Blumenthal  and  Gretchen  French  names.  Next,  we  knock  the 
German  Meisterschaft  sentences  out  of  the  first  scene,  and  replace 
them  with  sentences  from  the  French  Meisterschaft — like  this,  for 
instance:  "Je  voudrais  faire  des  emplettes  ce  matin;  voulez-vous 
avoir  1'obligeance  de  venir  avec  moi  chez  le  tailleur  frangais?"  And 
so  on.  Wherever  you  find  German,  replace  it  with  French,  leaving 
the  English  parts  undisturbed.  When  you  come  to  the  long  con- 
versation in  the  second  act,  turn  to  any  pamphlet  of  your  French 
Meisterschaft,  and  shovel  in  as  much  French  talk  on  any  subject 
as  will  fill  up  the  gaps  left  by  the  expunged  German.  Example — 
page  423,  French  Meisterschaft: 

On  dirait  qu'il  va  faire  chaud. 

J'ai  chaud. 

J'ai  extr&mement  chaud. 

Ah!  qu'il  fait  chaud! 

II  fait  une  chaleur  etouffante! 

L'air  est  brulant. 

Je  meurs  de  chaleur. 

II  est  presque  impossible  de  supporter  la  chaleur. 

Cela  vous  fait  transpirer. 

Mettons  nous  &  1'ombre. 

II  fait  du  vent. 

II  fait  un  vent  froid. 

H  fait  un  temps  tres-agre"able  pour  se  promener  aujourd'hui. 

And  so  on,  all  the  way  through.     It  is  very  easy  to  adjust  the 
play  to  any  desired  language.     Anybody  can  do  it.] 

343 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

single  word  of  it!  Very  kind  —  oh,  very!  when 
neither  Annie  nor  I  can  put  two  words  together,  ex- 
cept as  they  are  put  together  for  us  in  Meisterschaf t 
or  that  idiotic  Ollendorff!  (Refers  to  book,  and 
memorizes:  Mein  Bruder  hat  Ihren  Herrn  Vater  nicht 
gesehen,  als  er  gestern  in  dem  Laden  des  deutschen 
Kaufmannes  war.}  Yes,  we  can  have  society,  pro- 
vided we  talk  German.  What  would  such  a  con- 
versation be  like!  If  you  should  stick  to  Meister- 
schaft,  it  would  change  the  subject  every  two  min- 
utes; and  if  you  stuck  to  Ollendorff,  it  would  be  all 
about  your  sister's  mother's  good  stocking  of  thread, 
or  your  grandfather's  aunt's  good  hammer  of  the 
carpenter,  and  who's  got  it,  and  there  an  end.  You 
couldn't  keep  up  your  interest  in  such  topics.  (Mem- 
orizing: Wenn  irgend  moglich — mochte  ich  nock  heute 
Vormittag  dort  ankommen,  da  es  mir  sehr  daran  gelegen 
ist,  einen  meiner  Geschaftsfreunde  zu  trejjen.}  My 
mind  is  made  up  to  one  thing:  I  will  be  an  exile,  in 
spirit  and  in  truth;  I  will  see  no  one  during  these 
three  months.  Father  is  very  ingenious — oh,  very! 
thinks  he  is,  anyway.  Thinks  he  has  invented  a  way 
to  force  us  to  learn  to  speak  German.  He  is  a  dear 
good  soul,  and  all  that;  but  invention  isn't  his  fash'. 
He  will  see.  (With  eloquent  energy.)  Why,  nothing 
in  the  world  shall — Bitte,  konnen  Sie  mir  vielleicht 
sagen,  ob  Herr  Schmidt  mit  diesem  Zuge  ange- 
kommen  ist?  Oh,  dear,  dear  George — three  weeks! 
It  seems  a  whole  century  since  I  saw  him.  I  wonder 
if  he  suspects  that  I — that  I — care  for  him — j-just  a 
wee,  wee  bit?  I  believe  he  does.  And  I  believe  Will 
suspects  that  Annie  cares  for  him  a  little,  that  I  do. 

343 


MARK    TWAIN 

And  I  know  perfectly  well  that  they  care  for  us. 
They  agree  with  all  our  opinions,  no  matter  what 
they  are;  and  if  they  have  a  prejudice,  they  change 
it,  as  soon  as  they  see  how  foolish  it  is.  Dear  George ! 
at  first  he  ust  couldn't  abide  cats;  but  now, why, now 
he's  just  all  for  cats ;  he  fairly  welters  in  cats.  I  never 
saw  such  a  reform.  And  it's  just  so  with  all  his 
principles:  he  hasn't  got  one  that  he  had  before. 
Ah,  if  all  men  were  like  him,  this  world  would — 
(Memorizing.  Im  Gegentheil,  mein  Herr,  dieser  Stoff 
ist  sehr  billig.  Bitte,  sehen  Sie  sich  nur  die  Qualitat 
an.)  Yes,  and  what  did  they  go  to  studying  German 
for,  if  it  wasn't  an  inspiration  of  the  highest  -and 
purest  sympathy  ?  Any  other  explanation  is  nonsense 
—why,  they'd  as  soon  have  thought  of  studying 
American  history.  (Turns  her  back,  buries  herself  in 
her  pamphlet,  first  memorizing  aloud,  until  Annie 
enters,  then  to  herself,  rocking  to  and  fro,  and  rapidly 
moving  her  lips,  without  uttering  a  sound.) 

(Enter  Annie,  absorbed  in  her  pamphlet — does  not  at  first  see 
Margaret.) 

ANNIE.  (Memorizing.)  Er  liess  mich  gestern  fruh 
rufen,  und  sagte  mir  dass  er  einen  sehr  unangenehmen 
Brief  von  Ihrem  Lehrer  erhalten  hatte.  Repeats  twice 
aloud,  then  to  herself,  briskly  moving  her  lips. 

M.  (Still  not  seeing  her  sister.)  Wie  geht  es  Ihrem 
Herrn  Schwiegervater?  Es  freut  mich  sehr  dass 
Ihre  Frau  Mutter  wieder  wohl  ist.  (Repeats.  Then 
mouths  in  silence.) 

A.  (Repeats  her  sentence  a  couple  of  times  aloud; 
then  looks  up,  working  her  lips,  and  discovers  Mar- 

344 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

garet.}  Oh,  you  here?  (Running  to  her.")  Oh, 
lovey-dovey,  dovey-lovey,  I've  got  the  gr-reatest 
news !  Guess,  guess,  guess !  You'll  never  guess  in  a 
hundred  thousand  million  years — and  more! 

M.  Oh,  tell  me,  tell  me,  dearie;  don't  keep  me  in 
agony. 

A.  Well,  I  will.  What— do— you  think?  They're 
here! 

M.  Wh-a-t!    Who?    When?    Which?    Speak! 

A.  Will  and  George ! 

M.  Annie  Alexandra  Victoria  Stephenson,  what 
do  you  mean? 

A.  As  sure  as  guns ! 

M.  (Spasmodically  unarming  and  kissing  her.} 
'Sh!  don't  use  such  language.  Oh,  darling,  say  it 
again! 

A.  As  sure  as  guns! 

M.  I  don't  mean  that!    Tell  me  again,  that — 

A.  (Springing  up  and  waltzing  about  the  room.} 
They're  here — in  this  very  village — to  learn  German 
— for  three  months !  Es  sollte  mich  sehr  f reuen  wenn 
Sie— 

M.  (Joining  in  the  dance.}  Oh,  it's  just  too  lovely 
for  anything!  (Unconsciously  memorizing:}  Es  ware 
mir  lieb  wenn  Sie  morgen  mit  mir  in  die  Kirche  gehen 
konnten,  aber  ich  kann  selbst  nicht  gehen,  weil  ich 
Sonntags  gewohnlich  krank  bin.  Juckhe! 

A.  (Finishing  some  unconscious  memorizing}  — 
morgen  Mittag  bei  mir  speisen  konnten.  Juckhe! 
Sit  down  and  I'll  tell  you  all  I've  heard.  (They  sit.} 
They're  here,  and  under  that  same  odious  law  that 
fetters  us  —  our  tongues,  I  mean;  the  metaphor's 

345 


MARK    TWAIN 

faulty,  but  no  matter.  They  can  go  out,  and  see 
people,  only  on  condition  that  they  hear  and  speak 
German,  and  German  only. 

M.  Isn't — that — too  lovely! 

A.  And  they're  coming  to  see  us! 

M.  Darling!  (Kissing  her.}     But  are  you  sure? 

A.  Sure  as  guns — Gatling  guns! 

M.  'Sh!  don't,  child,  it's  schrecklich!  Darling — 
you  aren't  mistaken? 

A.  As  sure  as  g — batteries! 

(They  jump  up  and  dance  a  moment — then — ) 

M.  (With  distress.}  But,  Annie  dear! — we  can't 
talk  German — and  neither  can  they ! 

A.  (Sorrowfully.)     I  didn't  think  of  that. 

M.  How  cruel  it  is!    What  can  we  do? 

A.  (After  a  reflective  pause,  resolutely.)  Margaret 
— we've  got  to. 

M.  Got  to  what? 

A.  Speak  German. 

M.  Why,  how,  child? 

A.  (Contemplating  her  pamphlet  with  earnestness.) 
I  can  tell  you  one  thing.  Just  give  me  the  blessed 
privilege:  just  hinsetzen  Will  Jackson  here  in  front 
of  me,  and  I'll  talk  German  to  him  as  long  as  this 
Meisterschaft  holds  out  to  burn. 

M.  (Joyously.)  Oh,  what  an  elegant  idea!  You 
certainly  have  got  a  mind  that's  a  mine  of  resources, 
if  ever  anybody  had  one. 

A.  I'll  skin  this  Meisterschaft  to  the  last  sentence 
in  it! 

M.  (With  a  happy  idea.)  Why,  Annie,  it's  the 
346 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

greatest  thing  in  the  world.  I've  been  all  this  time 
struggling  and  despairing  over  these  few  little 
Meisterschaft  primers;  but  as  sure  as  you  live,  I'll 
have  the  whole  fifteen  by  heart  before  this  time  day 
after  to-morrow.  See  if  I  don't. 

A.  And  so  will  I;  and  I'll  trowel  in  a  layer  of 
Ollendorff  mush  between  every  couple  of  courses  of 
Meisterschaft  bricks.  Juckhe! 

M.  Hoch !  hoch !  hoch ! 

A.  Stoss  an! 

M.  Juckhe!  Wir  werden  gleich  gute  deutsche 
Schulerinnen  werden!  Juck — 

A.  —he! 

M.  Annie,  when  are  they  coming  to  see  us? 
To-night? 

A.  No. 

M.  No?  Why  not?  When  are  they  coming? 
What  are  they  waiting  for?  The  idea!  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  thing!  What  do  you — 

A.  (Breaking  in.)  Wait,  wait,  wait!  give  a  body 
a  chance.  They  have  their  reasons. 

M.  Reasons?    What  reasons? 

A.  Well,  now,  when  you  stop  and  think,  they're 
royal  good  ones.  They've  got  to  talk  German  when 
they  come,  haven't  they?  Of  course.  Well,  they 
don't  know  any  German  but  Wie  befinden  Sie  sich, 
and  Haben  Sie  gut  geschlafen,  and  unser  Vater,  and 
Ich  trinke  lieber  Bier  als  Wasser,  and  a  few  little 
parlor  things  like  that;  but  when  it  comes  to  talking, 
why,  they  don't  know  a  hundred  and  fifty  German 
words,  put  them  all  together. 

M.  Oh,  I  see. 

347 


MARK    TWAIN 

A.  So  they're  going  neither  to  eat,  sleep,  smoke, 
nor  speak  the  truth  till  they've  crammed  home  the 
whole  fifteen  Meisterschafts  auswendig! 

M.  Noble  hearts ! 

A.  They're  given  themselves  till  day  after  to- 
morrow, half -past  7  P.M.,  and  then  they'll  arrive  here 
loaded. 

M.  Oh,  how  lovely,  how  gorgeous,  how  beautiful ! 
Some  think  this  world  is  made  of  mud;  I  think  it's 
made  of  rainbows.  (Memorizing.)  Wenn  irgend 
moglich,  so  mochte  ich  noch  heute  Vormittag  dort 
ankommen,  da  es  mir  sehr  daran  gelegen  ist — 
Annie,  I  can  learn  it  just  like  nothing! 

A.  So  can  I.  Meisterschaft's  mere  fun — I  don't 
see  how  it  ever  could  have  seemed  difficult.  Come! 
We  can't  be  disturbed  here;  let's  give  orders  that  we 
don't  want  anything  to  eat  for  two  days;  and  are 
absent  to  friends,  dead  to  strangers,  and  not  at  home 
even  to  nougat  peddlers — 

M.  Schon !  and  we'll  lock  ourselves  into  our  rooms, 
and  at  the  end  of  two  days,  whosoever  may  ask  us 
a  Meisterschaft  question  shall  get  a  Meisterschaft 
answer — and  hot  from  the  bat! 

BOTH.  (Reciting  in  unison.)  Ich  habe  einen  Hut 
fur  meinen  Sohn,  ein  Paar  Handschuhe  fur  meinen 
Binder,  und  einen  Kamm  fur  mich  selbst  gekauft. 

(Exeunt.) 
(Enter  Mrs.  Blumenthal,  the  Wirthin.) 

WIRTHIN.  (Solus.)  Ach,  die  armen  Madchen,  sie 
hassen  die  deutsche  Sprache,  drum  ist  es  ganz  und 
gar  unmoglich  dass  sie  sie  je  lernen  konnen.  Es 

348 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

bricht  mir  ja  mein  Herz  ihre  Kummer  uber  die 
Studien  anzusehen.  .  .  .  Warum  haben  sie  den 
Entschluss  gefasst  in  ihren  Zimmern  ein  Paar  Tage 
zu  bleiben?  .  .  .  Ja — gewiss — das  versteht  sich;  sie 
sind  entmuthigt — arme  Kinder! 
(A  knock  at  the  door.}  Herein! 

(Enter  Gretchen  with  card.) 

GR.  Er  ist  schon  wieder  da,  und  sagt  dass  er  nur 
Sie  sehen  will.  (Hands  the  card.)  Auch — 

WIRTHIN.  Gott  im  Himmel — der  Vater  der  Mad- 
chen !  (Puts  the  card  in  her  pocket.)  Er  wunscht  die 
Tochter  nicht  zu  treffen?  Ganz  recht;  also,  Du 
schweigst. 

GR.  Zu  Befehl. 

WIRTHIN.  Lass  ihn  hereinkommen. 

GR.  Ja,  Frau  Wirthin! 

(Exit  Gretchen.) 

WIRTHIN.  (Solus.)  Ah — jetzt  muss  ich  ihm  die 
Wahrheit  offenbaren. 

(Enter  Mr.  Stephenson.) 

STEPHENSON.  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Blumenthal — 
keep  your  seat,  keep  your  seat,  please.  I'm  only 
here  for  a  moment — merely  to  get  your  report,  you 
know.  (Seating  himself.)  Don't  want  to  see  the 
girls — poor  things,  they'd  want  to  go  home  with  me. 
I'm  afraid  I  couldn't  have  the  heart  to  say  no. 
How's  the  German  getting  along? 

WIRTHIN.  N-not  very  well;  I  was  afraid  you  would 
ask  me  that.  You  see,  they  hate  it,  they  don't  take 
the  least  interest  in  it,  and  there  isn't  anything  to 

349 


MARK    TWAIN 

incite  them  to  an  interest,  you  see.  And  so  they 
can't  talk  at  all. 

S.  M-m.  That's  bad.  I  had  an  idea  that  they'd 
get  lonesome,  and  have  to  seek  society;  and  then,  of 
course,  my  plan  would  work,  considering  the  cast- 
iron  conditions  of  it. 

WIRTHIN.  But  it  hasn't  so  far.  I've  thrown  nice 
company  in  their  way — I've  done  my  very  best,  in 
every  way  I  could  think  of — but  it's  no  use;  they 
won't  go  out,  and  they  won't  receive  anybody.  And 
a  body  can't  blame  them;  they'd  be  tongue-tied — - 
couldn't  do  anything  with  a  German  conversation. 
Now,  when  I  started  to  learn  German — such  poor 
German  as  I  know — the  case  was  very  different ;  my 
intended  was  a  German.  I  was  to  live  among  Ger- 
mans the  rest  of  my  life;  and  so  I  had  to  learn. 
Why,  bless  my  heart!  I  nearly  lost  the  man  the 
first  time  he  asked  me — I  thought  he  was  talking 
about  the  measles.  They  were  very  prevalent  at  the 
time.  Told  him  I  didn't  want  any  in  mine.  But  I 
found  out  the  mistake,  and  I  was  fixed  for  him  next 
time.  .  .  .  Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Stephenson,  a  sweetheart's 
a  prime  incentive ! 

S.  (Aside.)  Good  soul!  she  doesn't  suspect  that 
my  plan  is  a  double  scheme — includes  a  speaking 
knowledge  of  German,  which  I  am  bound  they  shall 
have,  and  the  keeping  them  away  from  those  two 
young  fellows — though  if  I  had  known  that  those 
boys  were  going  off  for  a  year's  foreign  travel,  I — • 
however,  the  girls  would  never  learn  that  language  at 
home;  they're  here,  and  I  won't  relent — they've  got 
to  stick  the  three  months  out.  (Aloud.)  So  they 

3So 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

are  making  poor  progress?  Now  tell  me — will  they 
learn  it — after  a  sort  of  fashion,  I  mean — in  three 
months  ? 

WIRTHIN.  Well,  now,  I'll  tell  you  the  only  chance 
I  see.  Do  what  I  will,  they  won't  answer  my  Ger- 
man with  anything  but  English;  if  that  goes  on, 
they'll  stand  stock  still.  Now  I'm  willing  to  do 
this :  I'll  straighten  everything  up,  get  matters 
in  smooth  running  order,  and  day  after  to-mor- 
row I'll  got  to  bed  sick,  and  stay  sick  three 
weeks. 

S.  Good !  You  are  an  angel !  I  see  your  idea.  The 
servant  girl — 

WIRTHIN.  That's  it;  that's  my  project.  She 
doesn't  know  a  word  of  English.  And  Gretchen's  a 
real  good  soul,  and  can  talk  the  slates  off  a  roof. 
Her  tongue's  just  a  flutter-mill.  I'll  keep  my  room 
— just  ailing  a  little — and  they'll  never  see  my  face 
except  when  they  pay  their  little  duty-visits  to  me, 
and  then  I'll  say  English  disorders  my  mind.  They'll 
be  shut  up  with  Gretchen's  windmill,  and  she'll  just 
grind  them  to  powder.  Oh,  they'll  get  a  start  in  the 
language — sort  of  a  one,  sure's  you  live.  You  come 
back  in  three  weeks. 

S.  Bless  you,  my  Retterin !  I'll  be  here  to  the  day ! 
Get  ye  to  your  sick-room — you  shall  have  treble  pay. 
(Looking  at  watch.)  Good !  I  can  just  catch  my  train. 
Leben  Sie  wohl! 

(Exit.) 

WIRTHIN.  Leben  Sie  wohl!  mein  Herr! 
»3  351 


MARK     TWAIN 
ACT  II 

SCENE  I 

Time,  a  couple  of  days  later.  The  girls  discovered  with  their 
work  and  primers. 

ANNIE.  Was  felt  der  Wirthin? 

MARGARET.  Das  weiss  ich  nicht.  Sie  1st  schon  vor 
zwei  Tagen  ins  Bett  gegangen — 

A.  My!  how  fliessend  you  speak! 

M.  Danke  schon — und  sagte  dass  sie  nicht  wohl 
sei. 

A.  Good?  Oh,  no,  I  don't  mean  that!  no — only 
lucky  for  us — glucklich,  you  know  I  mean  because 
it'll  be  so  much  nicer  to  have  them  all  to  ourselves. 

M.  Oh,  naturlich!  Ja!  Dass  ziehe  ich  durchaus 
vor.  Do  you  believe  your  Meisterschaft  will  stay 
with  you,  Annie? 

A.  Well,  I  know  it  is  with  me — every  last  sentence 
of  it;  and  a  couple  of  hods  of  OUendorff,  too,  for 
emergencies.  Maybe  they'll  refuse  to  deliver — right 
off — at  first,  you  know — der  Verlegenheit  wegen — 
aber  ich  will  sie  spater  herausholen — when  I  get  my 
hand  in — und  vergisst  Du  das  nicht! 

M.  Sei  nicht  grob,  Liebste.  What  shall  we  talk 
about  first — when  they  come? 

A.  Well — let  me  see.  There's  shopping — and — 
all  that  about  the  trains,  you  know — and  going  to 
church — and — buying  tickets  to  London,  and  Berlin, 
and  all  around — and  all  that  subjunctive  stuff  about 
the  battle  in  Afghanistan,  and  where  the  American 
was  said  to  be  born,  and  so  on — and — and  ah — oh, 

35* 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

there's  so  many  things — I  don't  think  a  body  can 
choose  beforehand,  because  you  know  the  circum- 
stances and  the  atmosphere  always  have  so  much  to 
do  in  directing  a  conversation,  especially  a  German 
conversation,  which  is  only  a  kind  of  an  insurrection, 
anyway.  I  believe  it's  best  to  just  depend  on 
Prov —  (Glancing  at  watch  and  gasping.) — half 
past — seven ! 

M.  Oh,  dear,  I'm  all  of  a  tremble!  Let's  get  some-' 
thing  ready,  Annie! 

(Both  fall  nervously  to  reciting) :  Entschuldigen  Sie/ 
mein  Herr,  konnen  Sie  mir  vielleicht  sagen  wie  ich 
nach  dem  norddeutschen  Bahnhof  gehe?  (They 
repeat  it  several  times,  losing  their  grip  and  mixing  it 
all  up.} 

(A  knock.) 

BOTH.  Herein!    Oh,  dear!    O  der  heilige — 
(Enter  Gretchen.) 

GRETCHEN.  (Ruffled  and  indignant.}  Entschuldigen 
Sie,  meine  gnadigsten  Fraulein,  es  sind  zwei  junge 
rasende  Herren  draussen,  die  herein  wollen,  aber  ich 
habe  ihnen  geschworen  dass —  (Handing  the  cards.} 

M.  Du  Hebe  Zeit,  they're  here!  And  of  course 
down  goes  my  back  hair!  Stay  and  receive  them, 
dear,  while  I —  (Leaving.} 

A.  I — alone?  I  won't!  I'll  go  with  you!  (To 
GR.)  Lassen  Sie  die  Herren  naher  treten;  und  sagen 
Sie  ihnen  dass  wir  gleich  zuruckkommen  werden, 
(Exit} 

GR.  (Solus.)  Was!  Sie  freuen  sich  daruber?  Und 
ich  sollte  wirklich  diese  Blodsinnigen,  dies  grobe 


MARK    TWAIN 

Rindvieh  hereinlassen  ?  In  den  hulflosen  Umstanden 
meiner  gnadigen  jungen  Damen? — Unsinn!  (Pause — 
thinking.)  Wohlan!  Ich  werde  sie  mal  beschutzen! 
Sollte  man  nicht  glauben,  dass  sie  einen  Sparren  zu 
viel  hatten?  (Tapping  her  skull  significantly.)  Was 
sie  mir  doch  Alles  gesagt  haben!  Der  Eine:  "Guten 
Morgen!  wie  geht  es  Ihrem  Herrn  Schwiegervater?" 
Du  liebe  Zeit!  Wie  sollte  ich  einen  Schwiegervater 
haben  konnen!  Und  der  Andere:  "Es  thut  mir  sehr 
leid  dass  Ihrer  Herr  Vater  meinen  Bruder  nicht 
gesehen  hat,  als  er  doch  gestern  in  dem  Laden  des 
deutschen  Kaufmannes  war!"  Potztausendhimrnels- 
donnerwetter !  Oh,  ich  war  ganz  rasend!  Wie  ich 
aber  rief:  "Meine  Herren,  ich  kenne  Sie  nicht,  und 
Sie  kennen  meinen  Vater  nicht,  wissen  Sie,  denn  er 
ist  schon  lange  durchgebrannt,  und  geht  nicht  beim 
Tage  in  einen  Laden  hinein,  wissen  Sie — und  ich 
habe  keinen  Schwiegervater,  Gott  sei  Dank,  werde 
auch  nie  einen  kriegen,  werde  ueberhaupt,  wissen 
Sie,  ein  solches  Ding  nie  haben,  nie  dulden,  nie 
ausstehen:  warum  greifen  Sie  ein  Madchen  an,  das 
nur  Unschuld  kennt,  das  Ihnen  nie  Etwas  zu  Leide 
gethan  hat?"  Dann  haben  sie  sich  beide  die  Finger 
in  die  Ohren  gesteckt  und  gebetet:  "Allmachtigcr 
Gott!  Erbarme  Dich  unser!"  (Pause.}  Nun,  ich 
werde  schon  diesen  Schurken  Einlass  gonnen,  aber 
ich  werde  ein  Auge  mit  ihnen  haben,  damit  sie  sich 
nicht  wie  reine  Teufel  geberden  sollen. 
(Exit,  grumbling  and  shaking  her  head.) 

(Enter  William  and  George.) 

W.  My  land,  what  a  girl!  and  what  an  incredible 
354 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

gift  of  gabble! — kind  of  patent  climate-proof,  com- 
pensation-balance, self-acting,  automatic  Meister- 
schaft — touch  her  button,  and  br-r-r!  away  she  goes! 

GEO.  Never  heard  anything  like  it;  tongue  jour- 
naled  on  ball-bearings!  I  wonder  what  she  said; 
seemed  to  be  swearing,  mainly. 

W.  (After  mumbling  Meisterschaft  awhile.}  Look 
here,  George,  this  is  awful — come  to  think — this 
project:  we  can't  talk  this  frantic  language. 

GEO.  I  know  it,  Will,  and  it  is  awful;  but  I  can't 
live  without  seeing  Margaret — I've  endured  it  as 
long  as  I  can.  I  should  die  if  I  tried  to  hold  out 
longer — and  even  German  is  preferable  to  death. 

W.  (Hesitatingly.}  Well,  I  don't  know;  it's  a 
matter  of  opinion. 

GEO.  (Irritably.}  It  isn't  a  matter  of  opinion, 
either.  German  is  preferable  to  death. 

W.  (Reflectively.}  Well,  I  don't  know — the  prob- 
lem is  so  sudden — but  I  think  you  may  be  right: 
some  kinds  of  death.  It  is  more  than  likely  that  a 
slow,  lingering — well,  now,  there  in  Canada  in  the 
early  times  a  couple  of  centuries  ago,  the  Indians 
would  take  a  missionary  and  skin  him,  and  get  some 
hot  ashes  and  boiling  water  and  one  thing  and 
another,  and  by  and  by  that  missionary— well,  yes, 
I  can  see  that,  by  and  by,  talking  German  could  be 
a  pleasant  thing  for  him. 

GEO.  Why,  of  course.  Das  versteht  sich;  but  you 
have  to  always  think  a  thing  out,  or  you're  not  satis- 
fied. But  let's  not  go  to  bothering  about  thinking 
out  this  present  business;  we're  here,  we're  in  for  it; 
you  are  as  moribund  to  see  Annie  as  I  am  to  see 

ass 


MARK    TWAIN 

Margaret ;  you  known  the  terms :  we've  got  to 
speak  German.  Now  stop  your  mooning  and  get 
at  your  Meisterschaf t ;  we've  got  nothing  else  in 
the  world. 

W.  Do  you  think  that  '11  see  us  through?" 

GEO.  Why,  it's  got  to.  Suppose  we  wandered  out 
of  it  and  took  a  chance  at  the  language  on  our  own 
responsibility,  where  the  nation  would  we  be?  Up  a 
stump,  that's  where.  Our  only  safety  is  in  sticking 
like  wax  to  the  text. 

W.  But  what  can  we  talk  about? 

GEO.  Why,  anything  that  Meisterschaft  talks 
about.  It  ain't  our  affair. 

W.  I  know;  but  Meisterschaft  talks  about  every- 
thing. 

GEO.  And  yet  don't  talk  about  anything  long 
enough  for  it  to  get  embarrassing.  Meisterschaft  is 
just  splendid  for  general  conversation. 

W.  Yes,  that's  so;  but  it's  so  blamed  general! 
Won't  it  sound  foolish? 

GEO.  Foolish  ?  Why,  of  course ;  all  German  sounds 
foolish. 

W.  Well,  that  is  true;  I  didn't  think  of  that. 

GEO.  Now,  don't  fool  around  any  more.  Load  up; 
load  up;  get  ready.  Fix  up  some  sentences;  you'll 
need  them  in  two  minutes  now. 

(They  walk  up  and  down,  moving  their  lips  in  dumb- 
show  memorizing.) 

W.  Look  here — when  we've  said  all  that's  in  the 
book  on  a  topic,  and  want  to  change  the  subject, 
how  can  we  say  so? — how  would  a  German  say  it? 

GEO.  Well,  I  don't  know.  But  you  know  when 
356 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

they  mean  "Change  cars"  they  say  Umsteigen. 
Don't  you  reckon  that  will  answer? 

W.  Tip-top!  It's  short  and  goes  right  to  the 
point:  and  it's  got  a  business  whang  to  it  that's 
almost  American.  Umsteigen! — change  subject! — 
why,  it's  the  very  thing. 

GEO.  All  right,  then,  you  umsteigen — for  I  hear 
them  coming. 

(Enter  the  girls.) 

A.  to  W.  (With  solemnity.)  Guten  Morgen,  mein 
Herr,  es  freut  mich  sehr,  Sie  zu  sehen. 

W.  Guten  Morgen,  mein  Fraulein,  es  freut  mich 
sehr,  Sie  zu  sehen. 

(Margaret  and  George  repeat  the  same  sentences. 
Then,  after  an  embarrassing  silence,  Margaret  refers  to 
her  book  and  says): 

M.  Bitte,  meine  Herrn,  setzen  Sie  sich. 

THE  GENTLEMEN.  Danke  schon.  (The  four  seat 
themselves  in  couples,  the  width  of  the  stage  apart,  and 
the  two  conversations  begin.  The  talk  is  not  flowing — 
at  any  rate  at  first;  there  are  painful  silences  all  along. 
Each  couple  worry  out  a  remark  and  a  reply:  there  is 
a  pause  of  silent  thinking,  and  then  the  other  couple 
deliver  themselves.) 

W.  Haben  Sie  meinen  Vater  in  dem  Laden  meines 
Binders  nicht  gesehen? 

A.  Nein,  mein  Herr,  ich  habe  Ihren  Herrn  Vater 
in  dem  Laden  Ihres  Herrn  Bruders  nicht  gese- 
hen. 

GEO.  Waren  Sie  gestern  Abend  im  Koncert,  oder 
im  Theater? 


MARK    TWAIN 

M.  Nein,  ich  war  gestern  Abend  nicht  im  Koncert, 
noch  im  Theater,  ich  war  gestern  Abend  zu  Hause. 

(General  break-down — long  pause.) 

W.  Ich  store  doch  nicht  etwa? 

A.  Sie  storen  mich  durchaus  nicht. 

GEO.  Bitte,  lassen  Sie  sich  nicht  von  mir  storen. 

M.  Aber  ich  bitte  Sie,  Sie  storen  mich  durchaus 
nicht. 

W.  (To  both  girls.)  Wenn  wir  Sie  storen  so  gehen 
wir  gleich  wieder. 

A.  O,  nein!     Gewiss,  nein! 

M.  Im  Gegentheil,  es  freut  uns  sehr,  Sie  zu  sehen 
— alle  beide. 

W.  Schon! 

GEO.  Gott  sei  dank! 

M.  (Aside.)  It's  just  lovely! 

A.    (Aside.)   It's  like  a  poem. 

(Pause.) 

W.  CJmsteigen! 

M.  Um — welches? 

W.  Umsteigen. 

GEO.  Auf  English,  change  cars — oder  subject. 

BOTH  GIRLS.  Wie  schon! 

W.  Wir  haben  uns  die  Freiheit  genommen,  bei 
Ihnen  vorzusprechen. 

A.  Sie  sind  sehr  gutig. 

GEO.  Wir  wollten  uns  erkundigen,  wie  Sie  sich 
befanden. 

M.  Ich  bin  Ihnen  sehr  verbunden — meine  Schwes- 
ter  auch. 

W.  Meine  Frau  lasst  sich  Ihnen  bestens  empfehlen, 


MEISTERSCHAPT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

A.  Ihre  Frau? 

W.  (Examining  his  book.)  Vielleicht  habe  ich  mich 
geirrt.  (Shows  the  place.)  Nein,  gerade  so  sagt  das 
Buch, 

A.  (Satisfied.)     Ganz  recht.     Aber  — 

W.  Bitte,  empfehlen  Sie  mich  Ihrem  Herrn  Bruder. 

A.  Ah,  das  1st  viel  besser  —  viel  besser.  (A  side.) 
Wenigstens  es  ware  viel  besser  wenn  ich  einen  Bruder 
hatte. 

GEO.  Wie  ist  es  Ihnen  gegangen,  seitdem  ich  das 
Vergnugen  hatte,  Sie  anderswo  zu  sehen? 

M.  Danke  bestens,  ich  befinde  mich  gewohnlich 
ziemlich  wohl. 

(Gretchen  slips  in  with  a  gun,  and  listens.) 

GEO.  (Still  to  Margaret.)  Befindet  sich  Ihre  Frau 
Gemahlin,  wohl? 

GR.  (Raising  hands  and  eyes.)  Frau  Gemahlin  — 
heiliger  Gott!  (Is  like  to  betray  herself  with  her 
smothered  laughter,  and  glides  out.) 

M.  Danke  sehr,  meine  Frau  ist  ganz  wohl. 


W.  Durfen  wir  vielleicht  —  umsteigen? 

THE  OTHERS.  Gut! 

GEO.  (Aside.)  I  feel  better  now.  I'm  beginning 
to  catch  on.  (Aloud.)  Ich  mochte  gern  morgen  fruh 
einige  Einkaufe  machen  und  wurde  Ihnen  sehr  ver- 
bunden  sein,  wenn  Sie  mir  den  Gefallen  thaten,  mir 
die  Namen  der  besten  hiesigen  Finnen  aufzu- 
schreiben. 

M  (Aside.)  How  sweet  ! 


MARK    TWAIN 

W.  (Aside.)  Hang  it,  /  was  going  to  say  that! 
That's  one  of  the  noblest  things  in  the  book. 

A.  Ich  mochte  Ihnen  gern  begleiten,  aber  es  ist  mir 
wirklich  heute  Morgen  ganz  unmoglich  auszugehen. 
(Aside.)  It's  getting  as  easy  as  9  times  7  is  46. 

M.  Sagen  Sie  dem  Brieftager,  wenn's  gef  allig  ist,  er 
mochte  Ihnen  den  eingeschreibenen  Brief  geben  lassen. 

W.  Ich  wurde  Ihnen  sehr  verbunden  sein,  wenn 
Sie  diese  Schachtel  fur  mich  nach  der  Post  tragen 
wurden,  da  mir  sehr  daran  liegt  einen  meiner  Ge- 
schaftsfreunde  in  dem  Laden  des  deutschen  Kauf- 
manns  heute  Abend  treffen  zu  konnen.  (Aside.) 
All  down  but  nine;  set  'm  up  on  the  other  alley. 

A.  Aber  Herr  Jackson!  Sie  haben  die  Satze  ge- 
mischt.  Es  ist  unbegreiflich  wie  Sie  das  haben  thun 
konnen.  Zwischen  Ihrem  ersten  Theil  und  Ihrem 
letzten  Theil  haben  Sie  ganze  fiinfzig  Seiten  uberge- 
schlagen!  Jetzt  bin  ich  ganz  verloren.  Wie  kann 
man  reden,  wenn  man  seinen  Platz  durchaus  nicht 
wieder  finden  kann? 

W.  Oh,  bitte,  verzeihen  Sie;  ich  habe  das  wirklich 
nicht  beabsichtigt. 

A.  (Mollified.)  Sehr  wohl,  lassen  Sie  gut  sein. 
Aber  thun  Sie  es  nicht  wieder.  Sie  mussen  ja  doch 
einraumen,  dass  solche  Dinge  unertragliche  Verwir- 
rung  mit  sich  fuhren. 

(Gretchen  slips  in  again  with  her  gun.) 

W.  Unzweifelhaft  haben  Sie  Recht,  meine  hold- 
selige  Landsmannin.  .  .  .  Umsteigen! 

(As  George  gets  fairly  into  the  following,  Gretchen  draws  a 
bead  on  him,  and  lets  drive  at  the  close,  but  the  gun  snaps.) 

360 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

GEO.  Glauben  Sie  das  ich  ein  hubsches  Wohn- 
zimmer  fur  mich  selbst  und  ein  kleines  Schlafzimmer 
fur  meinen  -Sohn  in  diesem  Hotel  fur  f unf zehn  Mark 
die  Wofihe  bekommen  kann,  oder  wurden  Sie  mir 
rathen,  in  einer  Privatwohnung  Logis  zu  nehmen? 
(Aside.}  That's  a  daisy! 

GR.  (Aside.}  Schade!  (She  draws  her  charge  and 
reloads.) 

M.  Glauben  Sie  nicht  Sie  werden  bessef  thun  bei 
diesem  Wetter  zu  Hause  zu  bleiben? 

A.  Freilich  glaube  ich,  Herr  Franklin,  Sie  werden 
sich  erkalten,  wenn  Sie  bei  diesem  unbestandigen 
Wetter  ohne  Ueberrock  ausgehen. 

GR.  (Relieved — aside.)  So?  Man  redet  von  Aus- 
gehen. Das  klingt  schon  besser.  (Sits.) 

W.  (To  A.)  Wie  theuer  haben  Sie  das  gekauft? 
(Indicating  a  part  of  her  dress.) 

A.  Das  hat  achtzehn  Mark  gekostet. 

W.  Das  ist  sehr  theuer. 

GEO.  Ja,  obgleich  dieser  Stoff  wunderschon  ist 
und  das  Muster  sehr  geschmackvoll  und  auch  das 
Vorzuglichste  dass  es  in  dieser  Art  gibt,  so  ist  es  doch 
furchtbar  theuer  fur  einen  solchen  Artikel. 

M.  (Aside.)  How  sweet  is  this  communion  of  soul 
with  soul! 

A.  Im  Gegentheil,  mein  Herr,  das  ist  sehr  billig. 
Sehen  Sie  sich  nur  die  Qualitat  an. 

(They  all  examine  it.) 

GEO.  Moglicherweise  ist  es  das  allerneuste  das  man 
in  diesem  Stoff  hat ;  aber  das  Muster  gef  allt  mir  nicht. 

(Pause.) 
361 


MARK    TWAIN 

W.  Umsteigen! 

A.  Welchen  Hund  haben  Sie?  Haben  Sie  den 
hubschen  Hund  des  Kaufmanns,  oder  den  hasslichen 
Hund  der  Urgrossmutter  des  Lehrlings  des  bogen- 
beinigen  Zimmermanns? 

W.  (Aside.)  Oh,  come,  she's  ringing  in  a  cold  deck 
on  us:  that's  Ollendorff. 

GEO.  Ich  habe  nicht  den  Hund  des — des — (Aside.) 
Stuck!  That's  no  Meisterschaf t ;  they  don't  play 
fair.  (Aloud.)  Ich  habe  nicht  den  Hund  des — des — 
In  unserem  Buche  leider,  gibt  es  keinen  Hund;  daher, 
ob  ich  auch  gem  von  solchen  Thieren  sprechen 
mochte,  ist  es  mir  doch  unmoglich,  weil  ich  nicht 
vorbereitet  bin.  Entschuldigen  Sie,  meine  Damen. 

GR.  (Aside.)  Beim  Teufel,  sie  sind  alle  blodsinnig 
geworden.  In  meinem  Leben  habe  ich  nie  eii?. 
so  narrisches,  verfluchtes,  verdammtes  Gesprach 
gehort. 

W.  Bitte,  umsteigen. 

(Run  the  following  rapidly  through.) 

M.  (Aside.)  Oh,  I've  flushed  an  easy  batch! 
(Aloud.)  Wurden  Sie  mir  erlauben  meine  Reise- 
tasche  hier  hinzustellen? 

GR.  (Aside.)  Wo  ist  seine  Reisetasche?  Ich  sehe 
keine. 

W.  Bitte  sehr. 

GEO.  Ist  meine  Reisetasche  Ihnen  im  Wege? 

GR.  (Aside.)  Und  wo  ist  seine  Reisetasche? 

A.  Erlauben  Sie  mir  Sie  von  meiner  Reisetascha 
zu  befreien. 

GR.  (Aside)  Du  Esel! 

362 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

W.  Ganz  und  gar  nicht.  (To  Geo.)  Es  ist  sehr 
schwul  in  diesem  Coupe. 

GR.  (Aside.}  Coupe. 

GEO.  Sie  haben  Recht.  Erlauben  Sie  mir,  ge- 
falligst,  das  Fenster  zu  offnen.  Ein  wenig  Luft 
wurde  uns  gut  thun. 

M.  Wir  fahren  sehr  rasch. 

A.  Haben  Sie  den  Namen  jener  Station  ge- 
hort? 

W.  Wie  lange  halten  wir  auf  dieser  Station  an? 

GEO.  Ich  reise  nach  Dresden,  Schaffner.  Wo  muss 
ich  umsteigen? 

A.  Sie  steigen  nicht  um,  Sie  bleiben  sitzen. 

GR.  (Aside.)  Sie  sind  ja  alle  ganz  und  gar  ver- 
ruckt !  Man  denke  sich  sie  glauben  dass  sie  auf  der 
Eisenbahn  reisen. 

GEO.  (Aside,  to  William.)  Now  brace  up;  pull 
all  your  confidence  together,  my  boy,  and  we'll  try 
that  lovely  good-by  business  a  flutter.  I  think  it's 
about  the  gaudiest  thing  in  the  book,  if  you  boom  it 
right  along  and  don't  get  left  on  a  base.  It'll  im- 
press the  girls.  (Aloud.)  Lassen  Sie  uns  gehen:  es 
ist  schon  sehr  spat,  und  ich  muss  Morgen  ganz  fruh 
aufstehen. 

GR.  (Aside — grateful.)  Gott  sei  Dank  dass  sie 
endlich  gehen.  (Sets  her  gun  aside.) 

W.  (To  Geo.)  Ich  danke  Ihnen  hoflichst  fur  die 
Ehre  die  sie  mir  erweisen,  aber  ich  kann  nicht  langer 
bleiben. 

GEO.  (To  W.)  Entschuldigen  Sie  mich  gutigst, 
aber  ich  kann  wirklich  nicht  langer  bleiben. 

(Gretchen  looks  on  stupefied.) 
363 


MARK    TWAIN 

W.  (To  Geo.}  Ich  habe  schon  eine  Einladung 
ange  nommen;  ich  kann  wirklich  nicht  langer 
bleiben. 

(Gretchen  fingers  her  gun  again.) 

GEO.  (To  W.)  Ich  muss  gehen. 

W.  (To  Geo.)  Wie!  Sie  wollen  schon  wieder 
gehen?  Sie  sind  ja  eben  erst  gekommen. 

M.  (Aside.}  It's  just  music ! 

A.  (Aside.}  Oh,  how  lovely  they  do  it! 

GEO.  (To  W.}  Also  denken  sie  doch  noch  nicht 
an's  Gehen. 

W.  (To  Geo}  Es  thut  mir  unendlich  leid,  aber  ich 
muss  nach  Hause.  Meine  Frau  wird  sich  wundern, 
was  aus  mir  geworden  ist. 

GEO.  (To  W}  Meine  Frau  hat  keine  Ahnung  wo 
ich  bin:  ich  muss  wirklich  jetzt  fort. 

W.  (To  Geo.}  Dann  will  ich  Sie  nicht  langer  auf- 
halten;  ich  bedaure  sehr  dass  Sie  uns  einen  so  kurzen 
Besuch  gemacht  haben. 

GEO.  (To  W.}  Adieu — auf  recht  baldiges  Wieder- 
sehen. 

W.  UMSTEIGEN! 

(Great  hand-clapping  from  the  girls.) 

M.  (Aside.}  Oh,  how  perfect!  how  elegant! 

A.  (Aside}  Per-fectly  enchanting ! 

JOYOUS  CHORUS.  (All.}  Ich  habe  gehabt,  du  hast 
gehabt,  er  hat  gehabt,  wir  haben  gehabt,  ihr  habt 
gehabt,  sie  haben  gehabt. 

(Gretchen  faints,  and  tumbles  from  her  chair,  and  the  gun 
goes  off  with  a  crash.  Each  girl,  frightened,  seizes  the  protecting 
hand  of  her  sweetheart.  Gretchen  scrambles  up.  Tableau.) 

364 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

W.  (Takes  out  some  money — beckons  Gretchen  to 
him.  George  adds  money  to  the  pile.}  Hubsches 
Madchen  (giving  her  some  of  the  coins),  hast  Du 
etwas  gesehen? 

GR.  (Courtesy — aside.}  Der  Engel!  (Aloud — im- 
pressively.} Ich  habe  nichts  gesehen. 

W.  (More  money.}  Hast  Du  etwas  gehort? 

GR.  Ich  habe  nichts  gehort. 

W.  (More  money.}  Und  Morgen? 

GR.  Morgen — ware  es  nothig — bin  ich  taub  und 
blind. 

W.  Unvergleichbares  Madchen!  Und  (giving  the 
rest  of  the  money}  darnach  ? 

GR.  (Deep  courtesy — aside.}  Erzengel!  (Aloud.} 
Darnach,  mein  gnadgister,  betrachten  Sie  mich  also 
taub — blind — todt! 

ALL.  (In  chorus — with  reverent  joy.}  Ich  habe 
gehabt,  du  hast  gehabt,  er  hat  gehabt,  wir  haben 
gehabt,  ihr  habt  gehabt,  sie  haben  gehabt! 


ACT  III 
Three  weeks  later 

SCENE  I 

(Enter  Gretchen,  and  puts  her  shawl  on  a  chair.  Brushing 
around  with  the  traditional  feather  duster  of  the  drama. 
Smartly  dressed,  for  she  is  prosperous.) 

GR.  Wie  hatte  man  sich  das  vorstellen  konnen! 
In  nur  drei  Wochen  bin  ich  schon  reich  geworden! 
(Gets  out  of  her  pocket  handful  after  handful  of  silver, 
which  she  piles  on  the  table,  and  proceeds  to  repile  and 

365 


MARK     TWAIN 

count,  occasionally  ringing  or  biting  a  piece  to  try  its 
quality.)  Oh,  dass  (with  a  sigh)  die  Frau  Wirthin 
nur  ewig  krank  bliebe!  .  .  .  Diese  edlen  jungen 
Manner — sie  sind  ja  so  liebenswurdig!  Und  so 
fleissig!— und  so  treu!  Jeden  Morgen  kommen  sie 
gerade  um  drei  Viertel  auf  neun;  und  plaudern  und 
schwatzen,  und  plappern,  und  schnattern,  die  jungen 
Damen  auch ;  um  Schlage  zwolf  nehmen  sie  Abschied ; 
um  Schlage  eins  kommen  sie  schon  wieder,  und  plau- 
dern und  schwatzen  und  plappern  und  schnattern; 
gerade  um  sechs  Uhr  nehmen  sie  wiederum  Abschied ; 
um  halb  acht  kehren  sie  noche'mal  zuruck,  und 
plaudern  und  schwatzen  und  plappern  und  schnat- 
tern bis  zehn  Uhr,  oder  vielleicht  ein  Viertel  nach, 
falls  ihre  Uhren  nach  gehen  (und  stets  gehen  sie 
nach  am  Ende  des  Besuchs,  aber  stets  vor  Beginn 
desselben),  und  zuweilen  unterhalten  sich  die  jungen 
Leute  beim  Spazierengehen;  und  jeden  Sonntag  gehen 
sie  dreimal  in  die  Kirche;  und  immer  plaudern  sie, 
und  schwatzen  und  plappern  und  schnattern  bis 
ihnen  die  Zahne  aus  dem  Munde  fallen.  Und  ich? 
Durch  Mangel  an  Uebung,  ist  mir  die  Zunge  mit 
Moos  belegt  worden!  Freilich  ist's  mir  eine  dumme 
Zeit  gewesen.  Aber — um  Gotteswillen,  was  geht  das 
mir  an?  Was  soil  ich  daraus  machen?  Taglich 
sagt  die  Frau  Wirthin  "Gretchen"  (dumb-show  of 
paying  a  piece  of  money  into  her  hand),  "du  bist  eine 
der  besten  Sprach-Lehrerinnen  der  Welt!"  Ach, 
Gott!  Und  taglich  sagen  die  edlen  jungen  Manner, 
"Gretchen,  liebes  Kind"  (money-paying  again  in 
dumb-show — three  coins') ,  "bleib'  taub — blind — todt!" 
und  so  bleibe  ich.  .  .  .  Jetzt  wird  es  ungefahr  neun 

366 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

Uhr  sein ;  bald  kommen  sie  vom  Spaziergehen  zuruck. 
Also,  es  ware  gut  dass  ich  meinem  eigenen  Schatz 
einen  Besuch  abstatte  und  spazieren  gehe.  (Dons 
her  shawl.} 

(Exit  L.) 

(Enter  Wirthin.    R.) 

WIRTHIN.  That  was  Mr.  Stephenson's  train  that 
just  came  in.  Evidently  the  girls  are  out  walking 
with  Gretchen; — can't  find  them,  and  she  doesn't 
seem  to  be  around.  (A  ring  at  the  door.)  That's  him. 
I'll  go  see. 

(Exit.    R.) 

(Enter  Stephenson  and  Wirthin.    R.) 

S.  Well,  how  does  sickness  seem  to  agree  with  you? 

WIRTHIN.  So  well  that  I've  never  been  out  of  my 
room  since,  till  I  heard  your  train  come  in. 

S.  Thou  miracle  of  fidelity!  Now  I  argue  from 
that,  that  the  new  plan  is  working. 

WIRTHIN.  Working?  Mr.  Stephenson,  you  never 
saw  anything  like  it  in  the  whole  course  of  your 
life.  It's  absolutely  wonderful  the  way  it  works. 

S.  Succeeds?    No — you  don't  mean  it. 

WIRTHIN.  Indeed,  I  do  mean  it.  I  tell  you,  Mr. 
Stephenson,  that  plan  was  just  an  inspiration — 
that's  what  it  was.  You  could  teach  a  cat  German 
by  it. 

S.  Dear  me,  this  is  noble  news!    Tell  me  about  it. 

WIRTHIN.  Well,  it's  all  Gretchen — ev-ery  bit  of  it. 

I  told  you  she  was  a  jewel.    And  then  the  sagacity 

of  that  child — why,  I  never  dreamed  it  was  in  her. 

Sh-she,  "Never  you  ask  the  young  ladies  a  question 

«4  367 


MARK    TWAIN 

— never  let  on — just  keep  mum — leave  the  whole 
thing  to  me,"  sh-she. 

S.  Good!    And  she  justified,  did  she? 

WIRTHIN.  Well,  sir,  the  amount  of  German  gabble 
that  that  child  crammed  into  those  two  girls  inside 
the  next  forty-eight  hours — well,  I  was  satisfied! 
So  I've  never  asked  a  question — never  wanted  to  ask 
any.  I've  just  lain  curled  up  there,  happy.  The 
little  dears!  they've  flitted  in  to  see  me  a  moment, 
every  morning  and  noon  and  supper- time;  and  as 
sure  as  I'm  sitting  here,  inside  of  six  days  they  were 
clattering  German  to  me  like  a  house  afire! 

S.  Sp-lendid,  splendid! 

WIRTHIN.  Of  course  it  ain't  grammatical — the  in- 
ventor of  the  language  can't  talk  grammatical ;  if  the 
dative  didn't  fetch  him  the  accusative  would;  but 
it's  German  all  the  same,  and  don't  you  forget  it ! 

S.  Go  on — go  on — this  is  delicious  news — 

WIRTHIN.  Gretchen,  she  says  to  me  at  the  start, 
"Never  you  mind  about  company  for  'em,"  sh-she 
— "I'm  company  enough."  And  I  says,  "All  right — 
fix  it  your  own  way,  child";  and  that  she  was  right 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  to  this  day  they  don't  care 
a  straw  for  any  company  but  hers. 

S.  Dear  me;  why,  it's  admirable! 

WIRTHIN.  Well,  I  should  think  so!  They  just  dote 
on  that  hussy — can't  seem  to  get  enough  of  her. 
Gretchen  tells  me  so  herself.  And  the  care  she  takes 
of  them!  She  tells  me  that  every  time  there's  a 
moonlight  night  she  coaxes  them  out  for  a  walk;  and 
if  a  body  can  believe  her,  she  actually  bullies  them 
,  off  to  church  three  times  every  Sunday ! 

368 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

S.  Why,  the  little  dev — missionary!  Really,  she's 
a  genius ! 

WIRTHIN.  She's  a  bud,  I  tell  you!  Dear  me,  how 
she's  brought  those  girls'  health  up!  Cheeks? — just 
roses.  Gait? — they  walk  on  watch-springs!  And 
happy? — by  the  bliss  in  their  eyes,  you'd  think 
they're  in  Paradise!  Ah,  that  Gretchen!  Just  you 
imagine  our  trying  to  achieve  these  marvels! 

S.  You're  right — every  time.  Those  girls — why, 
all  they'd  have  wanted  to  know  was  what  we  wanted 
done,  and  then  they  wouldn't  have  done  it — the  mis- 
chievous young  rascals ! 

WIRTHIN.  Don't  tell  me?  Bless  you,  I  found  that 
out  early — when  /  was  bossing. 

S.  Well,  I'm  im-mensely  pleased.  Now  fetch  them 
down.  I'm  not  afraid  now.  They  won't  want  to  go 
home. 

WIRTHIN.  Home !  I  don't  believe  you  could  drag 
them  away  from  Gretchen  with  nine  span  of  horses. 
But  if  you  want  to  see  them,  put  on  your  hat  and 
come  along;  they're  out  somewhere  trapesing  along 
with  Gretchen.  (Going.) 

S.  I'm  with  you — lead  on. 

WIRTHIN.  We'll  go  out  the  side  door.    It's  toward 

the  Anlage. 

(Exit  both.  L.) 

(Enter  George  and  Margaret,  R.  Her  head  lies  upon  his 
shoulder,  his  arm  is  about  her  waist;  they  are  steeped  in  senti- 
ment.) 

M.  (Turning  a  fond  face  up  at  him.)  Du  Engel! 
GEO.  Liebste!  (Kiss.) 

M.  Oh,  das  Liedchen  dass  Du  mir  gewidmet  hast ; 
369 


MARK    TWAIN 

— es  1st  so  schon,  so  wunderschon.  Wie  habe  ich  je 
geahnt  dass  Du  ein  Poet  warest! 

GEO.  Mein  Schatzchen ! — es  ist  mir  lieb  wenn  Dir 
die  Kleinigkeit  gefallt. 

M.  Ah,  es  ist  mit  der  zartlichsten  Musik  gefullt 
— klingt  ja  so  suss  und  selig — wie  das  Fliistern 
des  Sommerwindes  die  Abenddammerung  hindurch. 
Wieder — Theuerste! — sag'  es  wieder. 

GEO.  Du  bist  wie  eine  Blume! — 

So  schon  und  hold  und  rein — 
Ich  schau  Dich  an,  und  Wehmuth 

Schleicht  mir  ins  Herz  hinein. 
Mir  ist  als  ob  ich  die  Hande 

Aufs  Haupt  Dir  legen  sollt', 
Betend,  dass  Gott  Dich  erhalte, 

So  rein  und  schon  und  hold. 

M.  A-ch !  (Dumb-show  sentimentalisms.)  Georgie — 
GEO.  Kindchen! 
M.  Warum  kommen  sie  nicht? 
GEO.  Das  weiss  ich  gar  nicht.    Sie  waren — 
M.  Es  wird   spat.     Wir   mussen   sie   antreiben. 
Komm! 

GEO.  Ich  glaube  sie  werden  recht  bald  ankommen, 

aber — 

(Exit  both.  'L.) 

(Enter  Gretchen,  R.,  in  a  state  of  mind.  Slumps  into  a  chair 
limp  with  despair.) 

GR.  Ach !  was  wird  jetzt  aus  mir  werden !  Zuf allig 
habe  ich  in  der  Feme  den  verdammten  Papa  gesehen ! 
— und  die  Frau  Wirthin  auch!  Oh,  diese  Erschei- 
nung — die  hat  mir  beinahe  das  Leben  genommen. 
Sie  suchen  die  jungen  Damen — das  weiss  ich  wenn 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

sie  diese  und  die  jungen  Herren  zusammen  fanden 
— du  heiliger  Gott !  Wenn  das  gescheiht,  waren  wir 
Alle  ganz  und  gar  verloren!  Ich  muss  sie  gleich 
finden,  und  ihr  eine  Warnung  geben! 

(Exit.    L.) 

(Enter  Annie  and  Will,  R.,  posed  like  the  former  couple  and 
sentimental.) 

A.  Ich  Hebe  Dich  schon  so  sehr — Deiner  edlen 
Natur  wegen.  Dass  du  dazu  auch  ein  Dichter  bist ! 
— ach,  mein  Leben  ist  ubermassig  reich  geworden! 
Wer  hatte  sich  doch  einbilden  konnen  dass  ich  einen 
Mann  zu  einem  so  wunderschonen  Gedicht  hatte 
begeistern  konnen? 

W.  Liebste!    Es  ist  nur  eine  IQeinigkeit. 

A.  Nein,  nein,  es  ist  ein  echtes  Wunder!  Sage  es 
noch  einmal — ich  flehe  Dich  an. 

W.  Du  bist  wie  eine  Blume! — 

So  schon  und  hold  und  rein — 
Ich  schau  Dich  an,  und  Wehmuth 

Schleicht  mir  ins  Herz  hinein. 
Mir  ist  als  ob  ich  die  Hande 

Aufs  Haupt  Dir  legen  sollt', 
Betend,  dass  Gott  Dich  erhalte 

So  rein  und  schon  und  hold. 

A.  Ach,  es  ist  himmlisch — einfach  himmlisch. 
(Kiss.}  Schreibt  auch  George  Gedichte? 

W.  Oh,  ja — zuweilen. 

A.  Wie  schon! 

W.  (Aside.}  Smouches  'em,  same  as  I  do !  It  was 
a  noble  good  idea  to  play  that  little  thing  on  her. 
George  wouldn't  ever  think  of  that — somehow  he 
never  had  any  invention. 


MARK    TWAIN 

A.  (Arranging  chairs.)  Jetzt  will  ich  bei  Dir  sitzen 
bleiben,  und  Du — 

W.  (They  sit.)  Ja — und  ich — 

A.  Du  wirst  mir  die  alte  Geschichte,  die  immer 
neu  bleibt,  noch  wieder  erzahlen. 

W.  Zum  Beispiel,  dass  ich  Dich  liebe! 

A.  Wieder! 

W.  Ich — sie  kommen ! 

(Enter  George  and  Margaret.) 

A.  Das  macht  nichts.     Fortan! 

(George  unties  M.'s  bonnet.  She  reties  his  cravat — inter- 
spersings  of  love-pats,  etc.,  and  dumb-show  of  love-quarrelings.) 

W.  Ich  liebe  Dich. 

A.  Ach!    Noch  einmal! 

W.  Ich  habe  Dich  vom  Herzen  lieb. 

A.  Ach!    Abermals! 

W.  Bist  Du  denn  noch  nicht  satt? 

A.  Nein.  (The  other  couple  sit  down,  and  Margaret 
begins  a  relying  of  the  cravat.  Enter  the  Wirthin  and 
Stephenson,  he  imposing  silence  with  a  sign.)  Mich 
hungert  sehr,  ich  wrhungre! 

W.  Oh,  Du  armes  Kind!  (Lays  her  head  on  his 
shoulder.  Dumb-show  between  Stephenson  and  Wir- 
thin.) Und  hungert  es  nicht  mich?  Du  hast  mir 
nicht  einmal  gesagt — 

A.  Dass  ich  Dich  liebe?  Mein  Eigener!  (Frau 
Wirthin  threatens  to  faint — is  supported  by  Stephen- 
son.)  Hore  mich  nur  an:  Ich  liebe  Dich,  ich  liebe 

Dich— 

(Enter  Gretchen.) 

GR.  (Tears  her  hair.)  Oh,  dass  ich  in  der  Holle  ware ! 
372 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

M.  Ich  liebe  Dich,  ich  Hebe  Dich!  Ah,  ich  bin  so 
gliicklich  dass  ich  nicht  schlafen  kann,  nicht  lesen 
kann,  nicht  reden  kann,  nicht — 

A.  Und  ich!  Ich  bin  auch  so  gliicklich  dass  ich 
nicht  speisen  kann,  nicht  studieren,  arbeiten,  denken, 
schreiben — 

S.  (To  Wirthin — aside.}  Oh,  there  isn't  any  mis- 
take about  it — Gretchen's  just  a  rattling  teacher! 

WIRTHIN.  (To  Stephenson — aside.}  I'll  skin  her 
alive  when  I  get  my  hands  on  her! 

M.  Komm,  alle  Verliebte!  (They  jump  up,  join 
hands,  and  sing  in  chorus): 

Du,  Du,  wie  ich  Dich  liebe, 
Du,  Du,  liebst  auch  mich! 
Die,  die  zartlichsten  Triebe — 

S.  (Stepping  forward.}  Well! 

(The  girls  throw  themselves  upon  his  neck  with  enthusiasm.) 

THE  GIRLS.  Why,  father! 

S.  My  darlings ! 

(The  young  men  hesitate  a  moment,  then  they  add  their 
embrace,  flinging  themselves  on  Stephenson's  neck,  along  with 
the  girls.) 

THE  YOUNG  MEN.  Why,  father! 

S.  (Struggling.}  Oh,  come,  this  is  too  thin! — too 
quick,  I  mean.  Let  go,  you  rascals! 

GEO.  We'll  never  let  go  till  you  put  us  on  the 
family  list. 

M.  Right!  hold  to  him! 

A.  Cling  to  him,  Will! 

(Gretchen  rushes  in  and  joins  the  general  embrace,  but  is 
snatched  away  by  the  Wirthin,  crushed  up  against  the  wall,  and 
Uireatened  with  destruction.) 

373 


MARK    TWAIN 

S.  (Suffocating.)  All  right,  all  right — have  it  your 
own  way,  you  quartet  of  swindlers! 

W.  He's  a  darling!    Three  cheers  for  papa! 

EVERYBODY.  (Except  Stephenson,  who  bows  with 
hand  on  heart.}  Hip — hip — hip:  hurrah,  hurrah, 
hurrah ! 

GR.  Der  Tiger— ah-h-h! 

WIRTHIN.  Sei  ruhig,  you  hussy! 

S.  Well,  I've  lost  a  couple  of  precious  daughters, 
but  I've  gained  a  couple  of  precious  scamps  to  fill 
up  the  gap  with;  so  it's  all  right.  I'm  satisfied, 
and  everybody's  forgiven  —  (With  mock  threats  at 
Gretchen.} 

W.  Oh,  wir  werden  fur  Dich  sorgen — du  herrliches 
Gretchen ! 

GR.  Danke  schon! 

M.  (To  Wirthin.)  Und  fur  Sie  auch;  derm  wenn 
Sie  nicht  so  freundlich  gewesen  waren,  krank  zu 
werden,  wie  waren  wir  je  so  glucklich  geworden  wie 
jetzt? 

WIRTHIN.  Well,  dear,  I  was  kind,  but  I  didn't 
mean  it.  But  I  ain't  sorry — not  one  bit — that  I 

ain't. 

(Tableau.) 

S.  Come,  now,  the  situation  is  full  of  hope,  and 
grace,  and  tender  sentiment.  If  I  had  in  the  least 
the  poetic  gift,  I  know  I  could  improvise  under  such 
»in  inspiration  (each  girl  nudges  her  sweetheart)  some- 
thing worthy  to — to —  Is  there  no  poet  among  us? 

(Each  youth  turns  solemnly  his  back  upon  the  other,  and 
raises  his  hands  in  benediction  over  his  sweetheart's  bowed  head.) 

374 


MEISTERSCHAFT:  IN  THREE  ACTS 

BOTH  YOUTHS  AT  ONCE: 

Mir  1st  als  ob  ich  die  Hande 
Aus  Haupt  Dir  legen  sollt ' — 

(They  turn  and  look  reproachfully  at  each  other — the  girls 
contemplate  them  with  injured  surprise.) 

S.  (Reflectively.)  I  think  I've  heard  that  before 
somewhere. 

WIRTHIN.  (Aside.)  Why,   the  very  cats  in  Ger- 
many know  it ! 

(Curtain.) 


PLAYING    COURIER 

A  TIME  would  come  when  we  must  go  from  Aix- 
les-Bains  to  Geneva,  and  from  thence,  by  a  series 
of  day-long  and  tangled  journeys,  to  Bayreuth  in 
Bavaria.  I  should  have  to  have  a  courier,  of 
course,  to  take  care  of  so  considerable  a  party  as 
mine. 

But  I  procrastinated.  The  time  slipped  along, 
and  at  last  I  woke  up  one  day  to  the  fact  that  we 
were  ready  to  move  and  had  no  courier.  I  then 
resolved  upon  what  I  felt  was  a  foolhardy  thing,  but 
I  was  in  the  humor  of  it.  I  said  I  would  make  the 
first  stage  without  help — I  did  it. 

I  brought  the  party  from  Aix  to  Geneva  by  myself 
— four  people.  The  distance  was  two  hours  and 
more,  and  there  was  one  change  of  cars.  There  was 
not  an  accident  of  any  kind,  except  leaving  a  valise 
and  some  other  matters  on  the  platform — a  thing 
which  can  hardly  be  called  an  accident,  it  is  so 
common.  So  I  offered  to  conduct  the  party  all  the 
way  to  Bayreuth. 

This  was  a  blunder,  though  it  did  not  seem  so  at 
the  time.  There  was  more  detail  than  I  thought 
there  would  be:  i,  two  persons  whom  we  had  left  in 
a  Genevan  pension  some  weeks  before  must  be  col- 
lected and  brought  to  the  hotel;  2,  I  must  notify  the 

376 


PLAYING    COURIER 

people  on  the  Grand  Quay  who  store  trunks  to  bring 
seven  of  our  stored  trunks  to  the  hotel  and  carry 
back  seven  which  they  would  find  piled  in  the  lobby ; 
3, 1  must  find  out  what  part  of  Europe  Bayreuth  was 
in  and  buy  seven  railway  tickets  for  that  point;  4,  I 
must  send  a  telegram  to  a  friend  in  the  Netherlands ; 
5,  it  was  now  two  in  the  afternoon,  and  we  must  look 
sharp  and  be  ready  for  the  first  night  train  and  make 
sure  of  sleeping-car  tickets;  6,  I  must  draw  money 
at  the  bank. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  the  sleeping-car  tickets  must 
be  the  most  important  thing,  so  I  went  to  the  station 
myself  to  make  sure;  hotel  messengers  are  not  always 
brisk  people.  It  was  a  hot  day,  and  I  ought  to  have 
driven,  but  it  seemed  better  economy  to  walk.  It 
did  not  turn  out  so,  because  I  lost  my  way  and 
trebled  the  distance.  I  applied  for  the  tickets,  and 
they  asked  me  which  route  I  wanted  to  go  by,  and 
that  embarrassed  me  and  made  me  lose  my  head, 
there  were  so  many  people  standing  around,  and  I 
not  knowing  anything  about  the  routes  and  not 
supposing  there  were  going  to  be  two;  so  I  judged 
it  best  to  go  back  and  map  out  the  road  and  come 
again. 

I  took  a  cab  this  time,  but  on  my  way  up-stairs  at 
the  hotel  I  remembered  that  I  was  out  of  cigars,  so 
I  thought  it  would  be  well  to  get  some  while  the 
matter  was  in  my  mind.  It  was  only  round  the 
corner,  and  I  didn't  need  the  cab.  I  asked  the  cab- 
man to  wait  where  he  was.  Thinking  of  the  tele- 
gram and  trying  to  word  it  in  my  head,  I  forgot  the 
cigars  and  the  cab,  and  walked  on  indefinitely.  I 

377 


MARK    TWAIN 

was  going  to  have  the  hotel  people  send  the  telegram, 
but  as  I  could  not  be  far  from  the  post-office  by  this 
time,  I  thought  I  would  do  it  myself.  But  it  was 
further  than  I  had  supposed.  I  found  the  place  at 
last  and  wrote  the  telegram  and  handed  it  in.  The 
clerk  was  a  severe-looking,  fidgety  man,  and  he  began 
to  fire  French  questions  at  me  in  such  a  liquid  form 
that  I  could  not  detect  the  joints  between  his  words, 
and  this  made  me  lose  my  head  again.  But  an 
Englishman  stepped  up  and  said  the  clerk  wanted  to 
know  where  he  was  to  send  the  telegram.  I  could 
not  tell  him,  because  it  was  not  my  telegram,  and  I 
explained  that  I  was  merely  sending  it  for  a  member 
of  my  party.  But  nothing  would  pacify  the  clerk 
but  the  address;  so  I  said  that  if  he  was  so  particular 
I  would  go  back  and  get  it. 

However,  I  thought  I  would  go  and  collect  those 
lacking  two  persons  first,  for  it  would  be  best  to  do 
everything  systematically  and  in  order,  and  one 
detail  at  a  time.  Then  I  remembered  the  cab  was 
eating  up  my  substance  down  at  the  hotel  yonder; 
so  I  called  another  cab  and  told  the  man  to  go  down 
and  fetch  it  to  the  post-office  and  wait  till  I  came. 

I  had  a  long,  hot  walk  to  collect  those  people,  and 
when  I  got  there  they  couldn't  come  with  me  because 
they  had  heavy  satchels  and  must  have  a  cab.  I 
went  away  to  find  one,  but  before  I  ran  across  any 
I  noticed  that  I  had  reached  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Grand  Quay — at  least  I  thought  I  had — so  I  judged 
I  could  save  time  by  stepping  around  and  arranging 
about  the  trunks.  I  stepped  around  about  a  mile, 
and  although  I  did  not  find  the  Grand  Quay,  I  found 

378 


a  cigar  shop,  and  remembered  about  the  cigars.  I 
said  I  was  going  to  Bayreuth,  and  wanted  enough  for 
the  journey.  The  man  asked  me  which  route  I  was 
going  to  take.  I  said  I  did  not  know.  He  said  he 
would  recommend  me  to  go  by  Zurich  and  various 
other  places  which  he  named,  and  offered  to  sell  me 
seven  second-class  through  tickets  for  twenty-two 
dollars  apiece,  which  would  be  throwing  off  the  dis- 
count which  the  railroads  allowed  him.  I  was  already 
tired  of  riding  second-class  on  first-class  tickets,  so 
I  took  him  up. 

By  and  by  I  found  Natural  &  Co.'s  storage  office, 
and  told  them  to  send  seven  of  our  trunks  to  the 
hotel  and  pile  them  up  in  the  lobby.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  I  was  not  delivering  the  whole  of  the  message, 
still  it  was  all  I  could  find  in  my  head. 

Next  I  found  the  bank  and  asked  for  some  money, 
but  I  had  left  my  letter  of  credit  somewhere  and  was 
not  able  to  draw.  I  remembered  now  that  I  must 
have  left  it  lying  on  the  table  where  I  wrote  my 
telegram;  so  I  got  a  cab  and  drove  to  the  post-office 
and  went  up-stairs,  and  they  said  that  a  letter  of 
credit  had  indeed  been  left  on  the  table,  but  that  it 
was  now  in  the  hands  of  the  police  authorities,  and 
it  would  be  necessary  for  me  to  go  there  and  prove 
property.  They  sent  a  boy  with  me,  and  we  went 
out  the  back  way  and  walked  a  couple  of  miles  and 
found  the  place;  and  then  I  remembered  about  my 
cabs,  and  asked  the  boy  to  send  them  to  me  when  he 
got  back  to  the  post-office.  It  was  nightfall  now, 
and  the  Mayor  had  gone  to  dinner.  I  thought  I 
would  go  to  dinner  myself,  but  the  officer  on  duty 

379 


MARK    TWAIN 

thought  differently,  and  I  stayed.  The  Mayor  drop- 
ped in  at  half  past  ten,  but  said  it  was  too  late 
to  do  anything  to-night  —  come  at  9.30  in  the 
morning.  The  officer  wanted  to  keep  me  all  night, 
and  said  I  was  a  suspicious-looking  person,  and 
probably  did  not  own  the  letter  of  credit,  and  didn't 
know  what  a  letter  of  credit  was,  but  merely  saw  the 
real  owner  leave  it  lying  on  the  table,  and  wanted  to 
get  it  because  I  was  probably  a  person  that  would 
want  anything  he  could  get,  whether  it  was  valuable 
or  not.  But  the  Mayor  said  he  saw  nothing  sus- 
picious about  me,  and  that  I  seemed  a  harmless 
person  and  nothing  the  matter  with  me  but  a  wan- 
dering mind,  and  not  much  of  that.  So  I  thanked  him 
and  he  set  me  free,  and  I  went  home  in  my  three  cabs. 
As  I  was  dog-tired  and  in  no  condition  to  answer 
questions  with  discretion,  I  thought  I  would  not  dis- 
turb the  Expedition  at  that  time  of  night,  as  there 
was  a  vacant  room  I  knew  of  at  the  other  end  of  the 
hall;  but  I  did  not  quite  arrive  there,  as  a  watch  had 
been  set,  the  Expedition  being  anxious  about  me. 
I  was  placed  in  a  galling  situation.  The  Expedition 
sat  stiff  and  forbidding  on  four  chairs  in  a  row,  with 
shawls  and  things  all  on,  satchels  and  guide-books  in 
lap.  They  had  been  sitting  like  that  for  four  hours, 
and  the  glass  going  down  all  the  time.  Yes,  and 
they  were  waiting — waiting  for  me.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  nothing  but  a  sudden,  happily  contrived,  and 
brilliant  tour  de  force  could  break  this  iron  front  and 
make  a  diversion  in  my  favor;  so  I  shied  my  hat  into 
the  arena  and  followed  it  with  a  skip  arid  a  jump, 
shouting  blithely : 

380 


PLAYING    COURIER 

"Ha,  ha,  here  we  all  are,  Mr.  Merry  man!" 

Nothing  could  be  deeper  or  stiller  than  the  absence 
of  applause  which  followed.  But  I  kept  on;  there 
seemed  no  other  way,  though  my  confidence,  poor 
enough  before,  had  got  a  deadly  check  and  was  in 
effect  gone. 

I  tried  to  be  jocund  out  of  a  heavy  heart,  I  tried 
to  touch  the  other  hearts  there  and  soften  the  bitter 
resentment  in  those  faces  by  throwing  off  bright  and 
airy  fun  and  making  of  the  whole  ghastly  thing  a 
joyously  humorous  incident,  but  this  idea  was  not 
well  conceived.  It  was  not  the  right  atmosphere  for 
it.  I  got  not  one  smile ;  not  one  line  in  those  offended 
faces  relaxed;  I  thawed  nothing  of  the  winter  that 
looked  out  of  those  frosty  eyes.  I  started  one  more 
breezy,  poor  effort,  but  the  head  of  the  Expedition 
cut  into  the  center  of  it  and  said: 

"Where  have  you  been?" 

I  saw  by  the  manner  of  this  that  the  idea  was  to 
get  down  to  cold  business  now.  So  I  began  my 
travels,  but  was  cut  short  again. 

"Where  are  the  two  others?  We  have  been  in 
frightful  anxiety  about  them." 

"Oh,  they're  all  right.  I  was  to  fetch  a  cab.  I 
will  go  straight  off,  and — " 

"Sit  down!  Don't  you  know  it  is  eleven  o'clock? 
Where  did  you  leave  them?" 

"At  the  pension." 

"Why  didn't  you  bring  them?" 

"Because  we  couldn't  carry  the  satchels.  And  so 
I  thought—" 

"Thought!  You  should  not  try  to  think.  One 
381 


MARK    TWAIN 

cannot  think  without  the  proper  machinery.  It  is 
two  miles  to  that  pension.  Did  you  go  there  with- 
out a  cab?" 

"I — well,  I  didn't  intend  to;  it  only  happened  so." 

"How  did  it  happen  so?" 

"Because  I  was  at  the  post-office  and  I  remem- 
bered that  I  had  left  a  cab  waiting  here,  and  so,  to 
stop  that  expense,  I  sent  another  cab  to — to — " 

"To  what?" 

"Well,  I  don't  remember  now,  but  I  think  the  new 
cab  was  to  have  the  hotel  pay  the  old  cab,  and  send 
it  away." 

"What  good  would  that  do?" 

"What  good  would  it  do?  It  would  stop  the 
expense,  wouldn't  it?" 

"By  putting  the  new  cab  in  its  place  to  continue 
the  expense?" 

I  didn't  say  anything. 

"Why  didn't  you  have  the  new  cab  come  back  for 
you?" 

"Oh,  that  is  what  I  did.  I  remember  now.  Yes, 
that  is  what  I  did.  Because  I  recollect  that  when  I — " 

"Well,  then,  why  didn't  it  come  back  for  you?" 

"To  the  post-office?    Why,  it  did." 

"Very  well,  then,  how  did  you  come  to  walk  to  the 
pension?" 

"I — I  don't  quite  remember  how  that  happened. 
Oh,  yes,  I  do  remember  now.  I  wrote  the  despatch 
to  send  to  the  Netherlands,  and — " 

"Oh,  thank  goodness,  you  did  accomplish  some- 
thing! I  wouldn't  have  had  you  fail  to  send — what 
makes  you  look  like  that !  You  are  trying  to  avoid 

382 


PLAYING    COURIER 

my  eye.     That  despatch  is  the  most  important  thing 
that —    You  haven't  sent  that  despatch!" 

"I  haven't  said  I  didn't  send  it." 

"You  don't  need  to.  Oh,  dear,  I  wouldn't  have 
had  that  telegram  fail  for  anything.  Why  didn't  you 
send  it?" 

"Well,  you  see,  with  so  many  things  to  do  and 
think  of,  I — they're  very  particular  there,  and  after 
I  had  written  the  telegram — " 

"Oh,  never  mind,  let  it  go,  explanations  can't  help 
the  matter  now — what  will  he  think  of  us?" 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  that's  all  right,  he'll  think 
we  gave  the  telegram  to  the  hotel  people,  and  that 
they—" 

"Why,  certainly!  Why  didn't  you  do  that? 
There  was  no  other  rational  way." 

"Yes,  I  know,  but  then  I  had  it  on  my  mind  that 
I  must  be  sure  and  get  to  the  bank  and  draw  some 
money — " 

"Well,  you  are  entitled  to  some  credit,  after  all, 
for  thinking  of  that,  and  I  don't  wish  to  be  too  hard 
on  you,  though  you  must  acknowledge  yourself  that 
you  have  cost  us  all  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  and  some 
of  it  not  necessary.  How  much  did  you  draw?" 

"Well,  I— I  had  an  idea  that— that— " 

"That  what?" 

"That — well,  it  seems  to  me  that  in  the  circum- 
stances— so  many  of  us,  you  know,  and — and — " 

"What  are  you  mooning  about?  Do  turn  your 
face  this  way  and  let  me — why,  you  haven't  drawn 
any  money!" 

"Well,  the  banker  said—" 
*5  383 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Never  mind  what  the  banker  said.  You  must 
have  had  a  reason  of  your  own.  Not  a  reason, 
exactly,  but  something  which — " 

"Well,  then,  the  simple  fact  was  that  I  hadn't  my 
letter  of  credit." 

"Hadn't  your  letter  of  credit?" 

"Hadn't  my  letter  of  credit." 

"Don't  repeat  me  like  that.     Where  was  it?" 

"At  the  post-office." 

"What  was  it  doing  there?" 

"Well,  I  forgot  it  and  left  it  there." 

"Upon  my  word,  I've  seen  a  good  many  couriers, 
but  of  all  the  couriers  that  ever  I — " 

"I've  done  the  best  I  could." 

"Well,  so  you  have,  poor  thing,  and  I'm  wrong  to 
abuse  you  so  when  you've  been  working  yourself  to 
death  while  we've  been  sitting  here  only  thinking  of 
our  vexations  instead  of  feeling  grateful  for  what  you 
were  trying  to  do  for  us.  It  will  all  come  out  right. 
We  can  take  the  7.30  train  in  the  morning  just  as 
well.  You've  bought  the  tickets?" 

"I  have — and  it's  a  bargain,  too.    Second  class." 

"I'm  glad  of  it.  Everybody  else  travels  second 
class,  and  we  might  just  as  well  save  that  ruinous 
extra  charge.  What  did  you  pay?" 

"Twenty -two  dollars  ^apiece —  through  to  Bay- 
reuth." 

"Why,  I  didn't  know  you  could  buy  through  tick- 
ets anywhere  but  in  London  and  Paris." 

"Some  people  can't,  maybe;  but  some  people  can 
— of  whom  I  am  one  of  which,  it  appears." 

"It  seems  a  rather  high  price." 
384 


PLAYING    COURIER 

"On  the  contrary,  the  dealer  knocked  off  his 
commission." 

"Dealer?" 

"Yes — I  bought  them  at  a  cigar  shop." 

"That  reminds  me.  We  shall  have  to  get  up 
pretty  early,  and  so  there  should  be  no  packing  to 
do.  Your  umbrella,  your  rubbers,  your  cigars — 
what  is  the  matter?" 

"Hang  it,  I've  left  the  cigars  at  the  bank." 

"Just  think  of  it!     Well,  your  umbrella?" 

"I'll  have  that  all  right.     There's  no  hurry." 

'  What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"Oh,  that's  all  right;  I'll  take  care  of—" 

"Where  is  that  umbrella?" 

"It's  just  the  merest  step — it  won't  take  me — " 

"Where  is  it?" 

"Well,  I  think  I  left  it  at  the  cigar  shop;  but 
anyway — " 

"Take  your  feet  out  from  under  that  thing.  It's 
just  as  I  expected!  Where  are  your  rubbers?" 

"They— well— " 

"Where  are  your  rubbers?" 

"It's  got  so  dry  now — well,  everybody  says  there's 
not  going  to  be  another  drop  of — " 

' '  Where — are — your — rubbers  ? ' ' 

"Wei ,  you  see — well,  it  was  this  way.  First,  the 
officer  said — " 

"What  officer?" 

"Police  officer  but  the  Mayor,  he — " 

"What  Mayor?" 

"Mayor  of  Geneva  but  I  said — " 

"Wait.     What  is  the  matter  with  you?" 
385 


MARK    TWAIN 

"Who,  me?  Nothing.  They  both  tried  to  per- 
suade me  to  stay,  and — " 

"Stay  where?" 

"Well,  the  fact  is— " 

"Where  have  you  been?  What's  kept  you  out  till 
half  past  ten  at  night?" 

"Oh,  you  see,  after  I  lost  my  letter  of  credit,  I— 

"You  are  beating  around  the  bush  a  good  deal. 
Now,  answer  the  question  in  just  one  straightforward 
word.  Where  are  those  rubbers?" 

"They — well,  they're  in  the  county  jail." 

I  started  a  placating  smile,  but  it  petrified.  The 
climate  was  unsuitable.  Spending  three  or  four 
hours  in  jail  did  not  seem  to  the  Expedition  humor- 
ous Neither  did  it  to  me,  at  bottom. 

I  had  to  explain  the  whole  thing,  and,  of  course, 
it  came  out  then  that  we  couldn't  take  the  early 
train,  because  that  would  leave  my  letter  of  credit 
in  hock  still.  It  did  look  as  if  we  had  all  got  to  go 
to  bed  estranged  and  unhappy,  but  by  good  luck 
that  was  prevented.  There  happened  to  be  mention 
of  the  trunks,  and  I  was  able  to  say  I  had  attended 
to  that  feature. 

"There,  you  are  just  as  good  and  thoughtful  and 
painstaking  and  intelligent  as  you  can  be,  and  it's 
a  shame  to  find  so  much  fault  with  you,  and  there 
sha'n't  be  another  word  of  it.  You've  done  beauti- 
fully, admirably,  and  I'm  sorry  I  ever  said  one  un- 
grateful word  to  you." 

This  hit  deeper  than  some  of  the  other  things  and 
made  me  uncomfortable,  because  I  wasn't  feeling  as 
solid  about  that  trunk  errand  as  I  wanted  to.  There 

386 


PLAYING    COURIER 

seemed  somehow  to  be  a  defect  about  it  somewhere, 
though  I  couldn't  put  my  finger  on  it,  and  didn't  like 
to  stir  the  matter  just  now,  it  being  late  and  maybe 
well  enough  to  let  well  enough  alone. 

Of  course  there  was  music  in  the  morning,  when  it 
was  found  that  we  couldn't  leave  by  the  early  train. 
But  I  had  no  time  to  wait;  I  got  only  the  opening 
bars  of  the  overture,  and  then  started  out  to  get  my 
letter  of  credit. 

It  seemed  a  good  time  to  look  into  the  trunk  busi- 
ness and  rectify  it  if  it  needed  it,  and  I  had  a  sus- 
picion that  it  did.  I  was  too  late.  The  concierge 
said  he  had  shipped  the  trunks  to  Zurich  the  evening 
before.  I  asked  him  how  he  could  do  that  without 
exhibiting  passage  tickets. 

"Not  necessary  in  Switzerland.  You  pay  for  your 
trunks  and  send  them  where  you  please.  Nothing 
goes  free  but  your  hand-baggage." 

"How  much  did  you  pay  on  them?" 

"A  hundred  and  forty  francs." 

"Twenty-eight  dollars.  There's  something  wrong 
about  that  trunk  business,  sure." 

Next  I  met  the  porter.    He  said: 

"You  have  not  slept  well,  is  it  not ?  You  have  the 
worn  look.  If  you  would  like  a  courier,  a  good  one 
has  arrived  last  night,  and  is  not  engaged  for  five 
days  already,  by  the  name  of  Ludi.  We  recommend 
him;  das  heisst,  the  Grand  H6tel  Beau  Rivage 
recommends  him." 

I  declined  with  coldness.  My  spirit  was  not 
broken  yet.  And  I  did  not  like  having  my  condition 
taken  notice  of  in  this  way.  I  was  at  the  county  jail 

38? 


MARK    TWAIN 

by  nine  o'clock,  hoping  that  the  Mayor  might  chance 
to  come  before  his  regular  hour;  but  he  didn't.  It 
was  dull  there.  Every  time  I  offered  to  touch  any- 
thing, or  look  at  anything,  or  do  anything,  or  refrain 
from  doing  anything,  the  policeman  said  it  was 
"dtfendu."  I  thought  I  would  practise  my  French 
on  him,  but  he  wouldn't  have  that  either.  It  seemed 
to  make  him  particularly  bitter  to  hear  his  own 
tongue. 

The  Mayor  came  at  last,  and  then  there  was  no 
trouble ;  for  the  minute  he  had  convened  the  Supreme 
Court — they  always  do  whenever  there  is  valuable 
property  in  dispute — and  got  everything  shipshape 
and  sentries  posted,  and  had  prayer  by  the  chaplain, 
my  unsealed  letter  was  brought  and  opened,  and 
there  wasn't  anything  in  it  but  some  photographs; 
because,  as  I  remembered  now,  I  had  taken  out  the 
letter  of  credit  so  as  to  make  room  for  the  photo- 
graphs, and  had  put  the  letter  in  my  other  pocket, 
which  I  proved  to  everybody's  satisfaction  by  fetch- 
ing it  out  and  showing  it  with  a  good  deal  of  exulta- 
tion. So  then  the  court  looked  at  each  other  in  a 
vacant  kind  of  way,  and  then  at  me,  and  then  at 
each  other  again,  and  finally  let  me  go,  but  said  it 
was  imprudent  for  me  to  be  at  large,  and  asked  me 
what  my  profession  was.  I  said  I  was  a  courier. 
They  lifted  up  their  eyes  in  a  kind  of  reverent  way 
and  said,  "Du  lieber  Gott!"  and  I  said  a  word  of 
courteous  thanks  for  their  apparent  admiration  and 
hurried  off  to  the  bank. 

However,  being  a  courier  was  already  making  me 
a  great  stickler  for  order  and  system  and  one  thing 

388 


PLAYING    COURIER 

at  a  time  and  each  thing  in  its  own  proper  turn;  so 
I  passed  by  the  bank  and  branched  off  and  started 
for  the  two  lacking  members  of  the  Expedition.  A 
cab  lazied  by,  and  I  took  it  upon  persuasion.  I 
gained  no  speed  by  this,  but  it  was  a  reposeful  turn- 
out and  I  liked  reposefulness.  The  week-long  jubi- 
lations over  the  six  hundredth  anniversary  of  the 
birth  of  Swiss  liberty  and  the  Signing  of  the  Compact 
was  at  flood-tide,  and  all  the  streets  were  clothed  in 
fluttering  flags. 

The  horse  and  the  driver  had  been  drunk  three 
days  and  nights,  and  had  known  no  stall  nor  bed 
meantime.  They  looked  as  I  felt — dreamy  and 
seedy.  But  we  arrived  in  course  of  time.  I  went 
in  and  rang,  and  asked  a  housemaid  to  rush  out  the 
lacking  members.  She  said  something  which  I  did 
not  understand,  and  I  returned  to  the  chariot.  The 
girl  had  probably  told  me  that  those  people  did  not 
belong  on  her  floor,  and  that  it  would  be  judicious 
for  me  to  go  higher,  and  ring  from  floor  to  floor  till 
I  found  them;  for  in  those  Swiss  flats  there  does  not 
seem  to  be  any  way  to  find  the  right  family  but  to 
be  patient  and  guess  your  way  along  up.  I  calcu- 
lated that  I  must  wait  fifteen  minutes,  there  being 
three  details  inseparable  from  an  occasion  of  this 
sort:  i,  put  on  hats  and  come  down  and  climb  in; 
2,  return  of  one  to  get  "my  other  glove";  3,  pres- 
ently, return  of  the  other  one  to  fetch  "my  French 
Verbs  at  a  Glance."  I  would  muse  during  the  fifteen 
minutes  and  take  it  easy. 

A  very  still  and  blank  interval  ensued,  and  then 
I  felt  a  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  started.  The 

389 


MARK    TWAIN 

intruder  was  a  policeman.  I  glanced  up  and  per- 
ceived that  there  was  new  scenery.  There  was  a 
good  deal  of  a  crowd,  and  they  had  that  pleased  and 
interested  look  which  such  a  crowd  wears  when  they 
see  that  somebody  is  out  of  luck.  The  horse  was 
asleep,  and  so  was  the  driver,  and  some  boys  had 
hung  them  and  me  full  of  gaudy  decorations  stolen 
from  the  innumerable  banner-poles.  It  was  a  scan- 
dalous spectacle.  The  officer  said : 

"I'm  sorry,  but  we  can't  have  you  sleeping  here 
all  day." 

I  was  wounded,  and  said  with  dignity: 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  I  was  not  sleeping;  I  was 
thinking." 

"Well,  you  can  think  if  you  want  to,  but  you've 
got  to  think  to  yourself;  you  disturb  the  whole 
neighborhood." 

It  was  a  poor  joke,  and  it  made  the  crowd  laugh. 
I  snore  at  night  sometimes,  but  it  is  not  likely  that 
I  would  do  such  a  thing  in  the  daytime  and  in  such 
a  place.  The  officer  undecorated  us,  and  seemed 
sorry  for  our  friendlessness,  and  really  tried  to  be 
humane,  but  he  said  we  mustn't  stop  there  any  longer 
or  he  would  have  to  charge  us  rent — it  was  the  law, 
he  said,  and  he  went  on  to  say  in  a  sociable  way  that 
I  was  looking  pretty  moldy,  and  he  wished  he  knew — 

I  shut  him  off  pretty  austerely,  and  said  I  hoped 
one  might  celebrate  a  little  these  days,  especially 
when  one  was  personally  concerned. 

"Personally?"  he  asked.     "How?" 

"Because  six  hundred  years  ago  an  ancestor  of 
mine  signed  the  compact." 

399 


PLAYING    COURIER 

He  reflected  a  moment,  then  looked  me  over  and 
said:  - 

"Ancestor!  It's  my  opinion  you  signed  it  your- 
self. For  of  all  the  old  ancient  relics  that  ever  I — 
but  never  mind  about  that.  What  is  it  you  are 
waiting  here  for  so  long?" 

I  said: 

"I'm  not  waiting  here  so  long  at  all.  I'm  waiting 
fifteen  minutes  till  they  forget  a  glove  and  a  book 
and  go  back  and  get  them."  Then  I  told  him  who 
they  were  that  I  had  come  for. 

He  was  very  obliging,  and  began  to  shout  inquiries 
to  the  tiers  of  heads  and  shoulders  projecting  from 
the  windows  above  us.  Then  a  woman  away  up 
there  sang  out: 

"Oh,  they?  Why,  I  got  them  a  cab  and  they  left 
here  long  ago — half  past  eight,  I  should  say." 

It  was  annoying.  I  glanced  at  my  watch,  but 
didn't  say  anything.  The  officer  said : 

"It  is  a  quarter  of  twelve,  you  see.  You  should 
have  inquired  better.  You  have  been  asleep  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour,  and  in  such  a  sun  as  this.  You 
are  baked — baked  black.  It  is  wonderful.  And  you 
will  miss  your  train,  perhaps.  You  interest  me 
greatly.  What  is  your  occupation?" 

I  said  I  was  a  courier.  It  seemed  to  stun  him,  and 
before  he  could  come  to  we  were  gone. 

When  I  arrived  in  the  third  story  of  the  hotel  I 
found  our  quarters  vacant.  I  was  not  surprised. 
The  moment  a  courier  takes  his  eye  off  his  tribe  they 
go  shopping.  The  nearer  it  is  to  train -time  the 
surer  they  are  to  go.  I  sat  down  to  try  and  think 

291 


MARK    TWAIN 

out  what  I  had  best  do  next,  but  presently  the  hall* 
boy  found  me  there,  and  said  the  Expedition  had 
gone  to  the  station  half  an  hour  before.  It  was  the 
first  time  I  had  known  them  to  do  a  rational  thing, 
and  it  was  very  confusing.  This  is  one  of  the  things 
that  make  a  courier's  life  so  difficult  and  uncertain. 
Just  as  matters  are  going  the  smoothest,  his  people 
will  strike  a  lucid  interval,  and  down  go  all  his 
arrangements  to  wreck  and  ruin. 

The  train  was  to  leave  at  twelve  noon  sharp.  It 
was  now  ten  minutes  after  twelve.  I  could  be  at 
the  station  in  ten  minutes.  I  saw  I  had  no  great 
amount  of  leeway,  for  this  was  the  lightning  express, 
and  on  the  Continent  the  lightning  expresses  are 
pretty  fastidious  about  getting  away  some  time 
during  the  advertised  day.  My  people  were  the 
only  ones  remaining  in  the  waiting-room;  everybody 
else  had  passed  through  and  "mounted  the  train," 
as  they  say  in  those  regions.  They  were  ex- 
hausted with  nervousness  and  fret,  but  I  comforted 
them  and  heartened  them  up,  and  we  made  our 
rush. 

But  no;  we  were  out  of  luck  again.  The  door- 
keeper was  not  satisfied  with  the  tickets.  He 
examined  them  cautiously,  deliberately,  suspiciously; 
then  glared  at  me  awhile,  and  after  that  he  called 
another  official.  The  two  examined  the  tickets  and 
called  another  official.  These  called  others,  and  the 
convention  discussed  and  discussed,  and  gesticulated 
and  carried  on,  until  I  begged  that  they  would 
consider  how  time  was  flying,  and  just  pass  a  few 
resolutions  and  let  us  go.  Then  they  said  very 

392 


PLAYING    COURIER 

courteously  that  there  was  a  defect  in  the  tickets,  and 
asked  me  where  I  got  them. 

I  judged  I  saw  what  the  trouble  was  now.  You 
see,  I  had  bought  the  tickets  in  a  cigar  shop,  and, 
of  course,  the  tobacco  smell  was  on  them;  without 
doubt,  the  thing  they  were  up  to  was  to  work 
the  tickets  through  the  Custom  House  and  to  col- 
lect duty  on  that  smell.  So  I  resolved  to  be 
perfectly  frank;  it  is  sometimes  the  best  way.  I 
said: 

"Gentlemen,  I  will  not  deceive  you.  These  rail- 
way tickets — " 

"Ah,  pardon,  monsieur!  These  are  not  railway 
tickets." 

"Oh,"  I  said,  "is  that  the  defect?" 

"Ah,  truly  yes,  monsieur.  These  are  lottery 
tickets,  yes ;  and  it  is  a  lottery  which  has  been  drawn 
two  years  ago." 

I  affected  to  be  greatly  amused;  it  is  all  one  can 
do  in  such  circumstances;  it  is  all  one  can  do,  and 
yet  there  is  no  value  in  it;  it  deceives  nobody,  and 
you  can  see  that  everybody  around  pities  you  and 
is  ashamed  of  you.  One  of  the  hardest  situations 
in  life,  I  think,  is  to  be  full  of  grief  and  a  sense  of 
defeat  and  shabbiness  that  way,  and  yet  have  to 
put  on  an  outside  of  archness  and  gaiety,  while  all 
the  time  you  know  that  your  own  Expedition,  the 
treasures  of  your  heart,  and  whose  love  and  reverence 
you  are  by  the  custom  of  our  civilization  entitled  to, 
are  being  consumed  with  humiliation  before  strangers 
to  see  you  earning  and  getting  a  compassion  which 
is  a  stigma,  a  brand — a  brand  which  certifies  you  to 

393 


MARK    TWAIN 

be — oh,  anything  and  everything  which  is  fatal  to 
human  respect. 

I  said,  cheerily,  it  was  all  right,  just  one  of  those 
little  accidents  that  was  likely  to  happen  to  anybody 
— I  would  have  the  right  tickets  in  two  minutes,  and 
we  would  catch  the  train  yet,  and,  moreover,  have 
something  to  laugh  about  all  through  the  journey. 
I  did  get  the  tickets  in  time,  all  stamped  and  com- 
plete, but  then  it  turned  out  that  I  couldn't  take 
them,  because  in  taking  so  much  pains  about  the 
two  missing  members  I  had  skipped  the  bank  and 
hadn't  the  money.  So  then  the  train  left,  and  there 
didn't  seem  to  be  anything  to  do  but  go  back  to  the 
hotel,  which  we  did;  but  it  was  kind  of  melancholy 
and  not  much  said.  I  tried  to  start  a  few  subjects, 
like  scenery  and  transubstantiation,  and  those  sorts 
of  things,  but  they  didn't  seem  to  hit  the  weather 
right. 

We  had  lost  our  good  rooms,  but  we  got  some 
others  which  were  pretty  scattering,  but  would 
answer.  I  judged  things  would  brighten  now,  but 
the  Head  of  the  Expedition  said,  "Send  up  the 
trunks."  It  made  me  feel  pretty  cold.  There  was 
a  doubtful  something  about  that  trunk  business.  I 
was  almost  sure  of  it.  I  was  going  to  suggest — 

But  a  wave  of  the  hand  sufficiently  restrained  me, 
and  I  was  informed  that  we  would  now  camp  for 
three  days  and  see  if  we  could  rest  up. 

I  said  all  right,  never  mind  ringing;  I  would  go 
down  and  attend  to  the  trunks  myself.  I  got  a 
cab  and  went  straight  to  Mr.  Charles  Natural's 
place,  and  asked  what  order  it  was  I  had  left  there. 

354 


PLAYING    COURIER 

"To  send  seven  trunks  to  the  hotel." 

"And  were  you  to  bring  any  back?" 

"No." 

"You  are  sure  I  didn't  tell  you  to  bring  back  seven 
that  would  be  found  piled  in  the  lobby?" 

"Absolutely  sure  you  didn't." 

"Then  the  whole  fourteen  are  gone  to  Zurich  or 
Jericho  or  somewhere,  and  there  is  going  to  be 
more  debris  around  that  hotel  when  the  Expedi- 
tion—" 

I  didn't  finish,  because  my  mind  was  getting  to  be 
in  a  good  deal  of  a  whirl,  and  when  you  are  that 
way  you  think  you  have  finished  a  sentence  when 
you  haven't,  and  you  go  mooning  and  dreaming 
away,  and  the  first  thing  you  know  you  get  run  over 
by  a  dray  or  a  cow  or  something. 

I  left  the  cab  there — I  forgot  it — and  on  my  way 
back  I  thought  it  all  out  and  concluded  to  resign, 
because  otherwise  I  should  be  nearly  sure  to  be  dis- 
charged. But  I  didn't  believe  it  would  be  a  good 
idea  to  resign  in  person;  I  could  do  it  by  message. 
So  I  sent  for  Mr.  Ludi  and  explained  that  there  was 
a  courier  going  to  resign  on  account  of  incompati- 
bility or  fatigue  or  something,  and  as  he  had  four  or 
five  vacant  days,  I  would  like  to  insert  him  into 
that  vacancy  if  he  thought  he  could  fill  it.  When 
everything  was  arranged  I  got  him  to  go  up  and  say 
to  the  Expedition  that,  owing  to  an  error  made  by 
Mr.  Natural's  people,  we  were  out  of  trunks  here, 
but  would  have  plenty  in  Zurich,  and  we'd  better 
take  the  first  train,  freight,  gravel,  or  construction, 
and  move  right  along. 

395 


MARK    TWAIN 

He  attended  to  that  and  came  down  with  an  invi- 
tation for  me  to  go  up — yes,  certainly;  and,  while 
we  walked  along  over  to  the  bank  to  get  money,  and 
collect  my  cigars  and  tobacco,  and  to  the  cigar  shop 
to  trade  back  the  lottery  tickets  and  get  my  um- 
brella, and  to  Mr.  Natural's  to  pay  that  cab  and  send 
it  away,  and  to  the  county  jail  to  get  my  rubbers 
and  leave  p.  p.  c.  cards  for  the  Mayor  and  Supreme 
Court,  he  described  the  weather  to  me  that  was 
prevailing  on  the  upper  levels  there  with  the  Expe- 
dition, and  I  saw  that  I  was  doing  very  well  where 
I  was. 

I  stayed  out  in  the  woods  till  4  P.M.,  to  let  the 
weather  moderate,  and  then  turned  up  at  the  station 
just  in  time  to  take  the  three-o'clock  express  for 
Zurich  along  with  the  Expedition,  now  in  the  hands 
of  Ludi,  who  conducted  its  complex  affairs  with 
little  apparent  effort  or  inconvenience. 

Well,  I  had  worked  like  a  slave  while  I  was  in 
office,  and  done  the  very  best  I  knew  how;  yet  all 
that  these  people  dwelt  upon  or  seemed  to  care  to 
remember  were  the  defects  of  my  administration,  not 
its  creditable  features.  They  would  skip  over  a 
thousand  creditable  features  to  remark  upon  and 
reiterate  and  fuss  about  just  one  fact,  till  it  seemed  to 
me  they  would  wear  it  out;  and  not  much  of  a  fact, 
either,  taken  by  itself — the  fact  that  I  elected  myself 
courier  in  Geneva,  and  put  in  work  enough  to  carry 
a  circus  to  Jerusalem,  and  yet  never  even  got  my 
gang  out  of  the  town.  I  finally  said  I  didn't  wish 
to  hear  any  more  about  the  subject,  it  made  me  tired. 
And  I  told  them  to  their  faces  that  I  would  never 

396 


PLAYING    COURIER 

be  a  courier  again  to  save  anybody's  life.  And  if  I 
live  long  enough  I'll  prove  it.  I  think  it's  a  difficult, 
brain-racking,  overworked,  and  thoroughly  ungrate- 
ful office,  and  the  main  bulk  of  its  wages  is  a  sore 
heart  and  a  bruised  spirit. 


THE    END 


'  VTRAL  UNIVERSITY  LIBRA**' 
csit"  of  California,  Sa> 

'VATE  DUE 


UC  SOUTHERN I  REGIONAL  LIBRARY ;  FACILITY 


A  A      000245561    6 


